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LINE

MARIE, MARAT, AND THE FLEUR DE LYS

A study in the symbolic use of line, with an endeavour to maintain
a judicious balance between realism and idealism.

LINE

AN ART STUDY

BY

EDMUND J. SULLIVAN

Author of
" THE ART OF ILLUSTRATION " ;

Illustrator of

"SARTOR RESARTUS," "THE FRENCH
REVOLUTION," "OMAR KHAYYAM," "THE
KAISER'S GARLA.4D," Etc.

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LONDON

CHAPMAN & HALL, LTD

1922

PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN sf

RICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED,

BUNGAV, SUFFOLK.

IN MEMORY OF MY FATHER

SULLIVAN OF -HASTINGS"
(1875—1914)

SOMETIME PRESIDENT OF
THE SOCIETY OF ART MASTERS

% INTRODUCTION

THERE have been times when I wished that I had
not undertaken to write this book. At first it appeared
(and of course should remain) so simple an affair to
explain what seemed like a discovery, — that all drawing
resolves itself into the combination at various angles of
units of straight line, consisting of two dots, that all
should be plain sailing.

All drawing is nothing more than that — the combina-
tion of straight lilies into curves, which I had been
combining nearly all my life — not quite unconsciously
as the bourgeois gentilhomme spoke prose; but as a
deliberate and conscious artist.

Having undertaken the book, in the full belief that I
had bitten off something well within my powers to
swallow, since such a book has been in mind for over
twenty years, the question was — "exactly where to
begin."

Since the pointing out of the simplicity of drawing
was of the essence of the task there could be no more
obvious answer than " At the beginning, of course ! "
and forthwith to start writing, and go on until the ink
ran out.

Well, then, what is the beginning of drawing? A
point ? If we accept the definition of a point as having

vili INTRODUCTION

position but no magnitude, we are landed at once into
a consideration of the infinitely minute. But for the
practical purposes of ocular demonstration with which
drawing is concerned, even at its lowest, we must start
with a visible dot, which, no matter how minute, has
magnitude, diameter and — has it? — position. What is
position, which is the one quality allowed to an ideal
point? It is harder to define than those qualities of
magnitude which the definition of a point denies.
Position implies relation to something else, not isolation
in space. Position in relation to what ? What is measure-
ment but an examination of relations? To what are
we to relate a point (which is an intensified infinity in
space) except to infinity in the other — the extensive —
direction ?

Take a line as the trace of a moving point — let it be a
straight line — as defined — the shortest line between two
given points. Shortness is subject to conditions, and is
not absolute. To conceive two tangential ideal points
is impossible.

Let the mind travel as far forwards as it can in its
conception of the infinitely remote, there is the equally
remote backwards, and to the right and left of the con-
ceiving mind. Of course we come to the unrealized
paradox of the mathematicians.

A straight line — where does it end ? In two infinities.
But the paradox of infinity leaves us with a curious
nostalgia for some resting-place in the flux.

To find out for oneself and to realize that at infinity
parallel straight lines do meet — that therefore straight
lines are only parts of infinite circles; that space, so far
as we can conceive it, is a sphere, and that at that limit
of conception all lines and spaces become but as the

INTRODUCTION ix

point in the centre of the next full-stop or the dot over
the next small " i," is enough to make the brain whirl like
a teetotum, which has neither right nor left hand, North,
South, East, nor West — all becomes blurred and a giddy
streak, as all appearance and all external being, the
conscious and the unconscious, merge into one, as it
must to the lulled criticism of a whirling Dervish, when
h ^himself becomes confounded in living atonement with
the infinite and the eternal.

Once get both eyes of the mind glued down to a line
and it becomes next to impossible to detach it. At times
it is reduced to the ecstasy of the mesmerized hen,
unable to lift its beak from th? fascination of the chalk-
mark stretching out to an infinity beyond the compre-
hension of its inverted eyes.

Let the mind lunge forward as far as it can with its
needle-lance through those terrible blanks between the
stars and beyond them all, it draws back the point with
nothing impaled upon it — unblunted even by the least
obstruction. Yet it has passed through something more
than emptiness — has surely been somewhere — though it
may have nothing by which to show that it has been
as well employed as in patching breeches.

It is out of this mazed contemplation that the mind
comes back to its comic little task of writing a modest
book on drawing, and to explain that drawing is so simple
that a child can do it. To put it forward as a pleasant
task for the entertainment of a leisure hour, more
fascinating than patience, solitaire, or even bridge.

If in a train I should see the most unlikely business-
man— grocer, stockbroker, solicitor — begin to fidget with
a pencil, reach for the nearest paper, and make unintelli-
gible signs on margins of books, newspapers and the backs

X INTRODUCTION

of envelopes — then pause, puzzled between a desire to
tear up his effort and an intention to carry on — then
suspicion will whisper : " He has got it. The hook has
struck — he has eaten of the tree — La Belle Dame Sans
Merci hath him in thrall — he has been reading this book "
and is " counting his investments in the infinite and the
eternal — he is learning to draw."

What, after all, is drawing but this — the shortest line
between the two points of an infinity withheld from our
comprehension ? A short cut that the artist takes, while
the mathematician goes round? Through and beyond
lines, algebraic symbols, signs and formulae, it is the
artist's trade —

"To see a world in a grain of sand,

And a heaven in a wild flower;
Hold Infinity in the palm of his hand,
And Eternity in an hour."

By drawing he does, if he is lucky, capture and bring
home, like a Palmer's shell, some dried scrap of the
Infinity in which he has travelled — for himself the keep-
sake from a dream; and, for the unbeliever, something
approaching a proof.

CONTENTS

CHAP. PAGE

INTRODUCTION . . . -j . . . vii

I. INTRODUCTORY ...... i

II. DRAWING MATERIALS ..... 7

III. ABSTRACT STRAIGHT LINES, ANGLES AND CURVES 24

III. (Continued) FREEHAND DRAWING OF ABSTRACT

LINES . . . . . . -36

IV. FREEHAND DRAWING OF /NATURAL FORMS, CON-

SISTING MAINLY OF PLANE SURFACES OR

SINGLE LINES ...... 42

V. THE THIRD AND FOURTH DIMENSIONS . . 47

VI. THE PICTURE PLANE ..... 56

VII. FORMAL PERSPECTIVE ..... 64

VIII. DRAWING OF SOLID OBJECTS ... -70

IX. SOLID OBJECTS IN SHADE AND SHADOW . . 96

X. MODELLING OF SOLID OBJECTS. . . . m

XI. EXPRESSION OF SOLIDS IN RELATION TO ONE

ANOTHER — AERIAL PERSPECTIVE . . . 124

XII. SHADOWS, REFLECTIONS AND AERIAL PERSPECTIVE 133

XIII. FIGURE DRAWING ...... 139

XIV. BEAUTY 159

XV. CONCLUSION IN PLASTER ..... 185

XI

LINE

INTRODUCTORY

WHETHER drawing preceded writing or writing drawing
might have been difficult to say ; but that drawing came
first may at any rate be assumed from a study of the
normal human progress as observed in the growth of an
ordinary child, quite apart from the evidence of scholars
as to the evolution or devolution of written symbols
from representations of observed form. Though not so
early as speech, it is probably the earliest form of the
conscious and wilful arts of expression for its own sake,
as soon as the line of absolute necessity or use has been
passed, unless making a noise be accounted music — and
so the earliest effort at rendering thought permanent.

A child will begin to draw crude symbols of .things
seen before he will learn to write, and this drawing will
proceed from impulse, whereas writing must be taught.

This appears to stand to reason, for a drawing, a
visible mark, stands as a symbol of something seen in
order to be recognizable by another; and this symbol
may be so elaborated as to be so like the thing seen as
to be under certain conditions deceptive enough to be
mistaken for the thing symbolized.

In the case of written speech or song the symbol is
incapable of being mistaken for the thing symbolized by

2 LINE

the word. Not until mechanical means of reproduction
of sound were introduced (which significantly or other-
wise followed photography, which is the mechanical
means of reproducing appearances) did it become possible
to place sound on record otherwise than by means of
symbols which had to be translated into sound in the
mind of the reader after passing through the sense either
of sight or touch.

All these symbols of sound had to be agreed upon by
any community employing them, just as the language
of a tribe or people was an agreed convention, con-
stantly enlarging, changing and adapting itself to the
requirements of the tribe, so that different symbols of
sound, or systems of written speech, are still in existence
at the present day — as witness the Chinese, Hebrew,
Indian, Persian, Grecian and Roman characters and
alphabets and their many modifications.

On the other hand, drawing was and will remain a
universal method of communication of ideas, by means
of symbols intelligible by all, regardless of time and
geography. A kitten or a puppy may be taken in by
a reflection. A dog may bark at it. But its sense of
smell as well as of sight teaches it very early to dis-
criminate between the actual thing and the appearance.
The learned pig or pony, still to be met with at fairs,
does not discriminate the letters of the alphabet, but is
trained to exercise an apparent choice, but only in
obedience to the indication given by the trainer.

To observe that the symbols used vary according to
the skill of the maker, in their simplicity, complexity
and subtlety, or in the taste of their selection, is only to
recognize that they are the work of the human hand
and brain; beyond these factors, which are primary in

INTRODUCTORY 3

the artist's mind, concerned directly with his own primi-
tive impulse towards expression, must be reckoned the
effect of fashion upon his employment of them — first as
to such symbols as he has already seen employed, which
will be easier to imitate than to recreate anew (since it
is easier to follow than to lead), and second from the
pressure of public opinion, which will more readily accept
, symbols to which it is already accustomed than worry
itself by following the track of the exploring artist's mind.
The puppy that may be taken in by the realistic reflection
in the mirror cannot understand a drawing at all.

Form being the first essential of any material object,
any means that expresses this must take precedence of
such as can express only an attribute of the form, and
this being so, sculpture (or drawing in the round),
which repeats the tangibility, and drawing upon the
flat must take precedence of any means taken towards
the coloration or scent or sound produced by objects
or their activities. Leaving sculpture and its tangi-
bility as a solid aside, drawing, being the means of
expressing the essential shape of an object and its bulk
and situation in relation to others, must be the primary
consideration in any scheme of visible symbolization of
that object.

That all men see alike is not to be maintained, but it
may be demonstrated that men — and women too, for
that matter — see much more nearly alike than is generally
supposed.

The story of Turner's reply to the lady who objected
that she did not see sunsets as he painted them — " Don't
you wish that you could, Madam? " — has been almost
as often misunderstood as it has been quoted; having
been taken as supporting the idea that Turner saw things

4 LINE

differently from the bulk of man- and woman-kind and
was even proud of the fact. A learned optician wrote
an essay to prove that Turner suffered from astigmatism
as evidenced by his pictures.

It used to be thought that the Chinese and Japanese
artists saw differently from Europeans. The early
Italian painters have been nicknamed " squint-eyed
Primitives"; and Gaugin and Van Gogh regarded as
innovators of new ways of seeing. Whistler, because
he saw things as beautiful or beautified by the semi-
obscurity of tone, was thought to see differently from the
man in the street. We are taught to read rather than
to see. We recognize similar streets rather by name
than by appearance, and our powers of observation run
the risk of atrophy from lack of use. It is not that one
artist's optical equipment is different from another's, or
from that of the ordinary man, that produces the difference
between one man's pictures and those of another. It
was not Turner's astigmatism, nor was it a mote, a beam,
or a squint in the eye of the Chinese or the Italian primi-
tives which brought about a differentiation of symbols
between the art of one and another. When a man or
woman defends an inaccurate drawing which purports to
be a true representation on the score of " that being the
way they see it," we may set them down as untruthful.
That no two painters sitting side by side painting the
same subject will paint exactly alike is also true.

It is not that they see differently, but that they will
be differently interested, and, supposing them to vary
temperamentally while being equally skilled, their
emphasis will naturally fall differently. The selections
they make will consciously or unconsciously vary one
from another. The interest of an artist varies from day

INTRODUCTORY 5

to day; and it is a difficulty he frequently experiences
to recapture an earlier frame of mind in continuing work
already begun. Though temperamentally alike as twins,
it is still likely that two artists may vary in skill, or
temporary aim, and that the results will differ accord-
ingly. It is these differences that constitute personality
in art. Turner, if he had set himself the task, had
sufficient skill at any time in his career to have painted
something uncommonly like a coloured photograph of
any landscape in front of him, just, indeed, as he saw it.
There are early Chinese drawings in which a convention
extraordinarily like that of Holbein is employed ; Botticelli
and certain of the Japanese masters have so much in
common that it is frequently more the medium and the
subject than any personal outlook that divides the work
of one from the other.

Two highly skilled artists whose work from Nature
varies as much as variation is possible, if set to copy
conscientiously a picture by a third artist, will yet
produce works almost identical; thus showing that their
vision, so far as vision is a matter of eye-sight, is exactly
similar in every particular, and that skill or handling
alone will differentiate one result from another.

More even than in the case suggested above of two
artists at work upon the same subject at the same time
and place whose work varies in accordance with tempera-
ment, skill, upbringing, aims, intentions, and the medium
employed, will the work of races or nations separated
by blood, religion, language, customs and ideas, even by
thousands of miles in space, and hundreds of years in
time, differ one from another. Yet it is not the differences
so much as the similarities of the work that are more
remarkable.

6 LINE

That there is some underlying principle common to
all pictorial art is therefore obvious ; and it is our purpose
to examine such of those principles as apply in the case of
drawing, which, as already suggested, is itself the basis
of pictorial art, since it is the simplest form of symbolism
of things seen.

II

DRAWING MATERIALS

,

A LINE being " the trace of a moving point having
length but not breadth," and a point " having neither
length, breadth, nor thickness," so far as theory goes,
and leaving the ideal, it falls to be discussed what is a
"trace" or "line" in practice, what in practice is a
" point," and how, in practice, is it moved?

Let us take the point first.

Probably the earliest drawing was made with a twig
of charred stick, such as is still largely used, or it may
have been scratched upon the sand, or in clay. " Willow
charcoal " is sold by all artists' colourmen, and is doubtless
as good, but no better than it used to be. It varies
largely in freedom of working and in richness of colour
— some being harsh and uncertain in action, yielding
alternately a free black line and an almost imperceptible
scratch.

Altogether preferable to the stick charcoal is the
Siberian compressed charcoal. This is not yet so well
known or so much used as it might be. It is put up in
round sticks much like pastel, and is graded in regular
degrees of hardness and softness, from a stick yielding
a precise grey line, and that only under pressure, to one
of so crumbling and powdery a character and of such
density of blackness that it requires the utmost delicacy
of handling to avoid ponderosity where such is not
desirable.

An advantage in the use of charcoal nicely balanced

7

8 LINE

as a disadvantage, is its slight capacity of adherence,
particularly in the soft and most freely working varieties.
Generally the richer the effect the more readily can it
be removed, being little more than a line of dark dust
lying upon the upper surface of the paper, so that it
may be flicked off with a duster, or even be simply shaken
away. My friend A. S. Hartrick told me of a Zulu
model at Julian's or Cormon's studio in Paris who was
an expert with the stock-whip, giving, as an exhibition
of his skill, a flick at a study of himself, at the full length
of the whip. Without tearing or damaging the paper,
he shook every loose particle of charcoal off it, and turned
what had been a carefully drawn nigger into a pale ghost
upon the white sheet.

A charcoal drawing should be " fixed " as soon as
finished.

An efficient and inexpensive fixative may be simply
made by making a saturated solution of fiddler's rosin in
methylated spirit. This should be applied with a spray,
either in the form of a blow-pipe, or with a bulb such as
ladies use for scent, which latter is recommended to
bilious subjects.

Charcoal has also the advantage of deadness of colour.
It does not reflect light, as does lead pencil, but absorbs
it, so that it reproduces well photographically. A fair
approximation may sometimes be made by direct process
reproduction of a charcoal drawing in line without the
intervention of a ruled screen in the camera, though a
certain amount of delicacy will generally be lost in the
printing. Such reproduction should not be attempted if
fine gradations have been attempted by smearing the
charcoal.

Black chalk shares some of the characteristics of

DRAWING MATERIALS 9

charcoal. It yields a dense black and does not shine.
It varies considerably in hardness and softness, and has
an advantage in that it may be brought to a fine point
which will not wear down so rapidly as charcoal, so that
it is possible to carry out work requiring the utmost
-.minuteness with a greater degree of precision than is
easily possible with charcoal.

To sharpen charcoal or chalk with a knife it is advisable
always to cut from the point backwards, otherwise the
end will almost inevitably be snapped off. An easier
and more rapid method of sharpening chalk is to have a
sheet of glass or emery paper always at hand, by which
means a mimber of points can readily be prepared. Paul
Renouard, who used chalk more than anything else,
always had about a dozen ready prepared, so that he
could select a suitable point at will, without having to
stop working for the irritating job of sharpening one.
He used Hardtmuth's chalks in holders; as also did
Phil May when working in chalk, though most often
he made his studies in lead-pencil.

Beautiful results are obtainable with " sanguine," or
red chalk. The writer has little experience of it in
working, but has found certain kinds to be of a greasy
nature, rejecting water-colour. This may have been of
an artificial kind, in which wax was used as a medium
for the colour. It is not always good for students to
use, as from its own quality of colour it may make a
bad drawing deceptively attractive among a number of
black ones.

Chalk, like charcoal, being absorbent of light, and
non-reflective, reproduces admirably. It does not rub
so easily, and so stands in less need of fixing than charcoal.
It is nevertheless advisable to fix drawings as soon as

TO LINE

possible where precision and sharpness of line have any
value, as very little chafing or knocking about, even in
portfolios, will take the " edge " off them.

Lead-pencil, as commonly known to-day, is of com-
paratively modern introduction. The present generation
hardly knows, even by reputation, the old Cumberland
lead, which used to be advertised in all the stationers'
windows, and made English lead- pencils the finest in
the world. Liking a chisel edge for drawing with, but
not finding such as the artists' colourmen supplied, if
they supplied them at all, of sufficient width, the writer
had a fad for a while of drawing with a carpenter's pencil.
These are coarse, gritty and grey. It was therefore with
delight that at Brown's, the stationer's shop that used
to be in the Strand opposite St. Clement Danes, hard
by the old Graphic office, he discovered a supply of a
gross of pencils that had been in stock for fifty years or
so, and that they had never been able to sell. These
had been made, they thought, for J. D. Harding, and it
is easy to imagine him using them for the various " tree
touches," ash, oak, elm, etc., that it was the fashion for
drawing-masters to impart to young ladies with a " nice
taste in ruins " and a penchant for " landskips " in
those romantic days. These pencils were of solid Cum-
berland lead, six B, of a generous width, T37 or thereabouts,
that cut like cheese. What stuff it was ! What a
vintage ! The gross was bought and shared out with
Hartrick, Phil May and Renouard. They were a delight
to use, and it was a joy to give one away to anyone who
could appreciate it. Phil May's share was very little
used, as a retriever he had at that time fell in love with
them and the box, and chawed them to bits ! There
are, therefore, none or few of his drawings which show

DRAWING MATERIALS IT

the characteristics of a. chisel-edged pencil having been
employed. Modern pencils are made of compressed
black-lead-powder and clay in varying proportions
according to the degree of hardness or softness. There
being an excess of clay over graphite in the harder degrees,
there is a consequent greyness or lightness in the line
arising from the double cause that the amalgam is re-
duced in blackness and that less is discharged upon the
paper.

The greatest characteristic of a lead-pencil line is its
metallic silvery lustre. A fairly rich black is obtainable
in some degrees ; but it does not compare in this quality
with chalk. It is capable of being very sharply pointed,
and so is an instrument of most delicate precision for
line, as well as yielding a considerable range of tones,
extending from the delicacy of silver point almost to
the richness of colour of chalk, which it exceeds in its
peculiar luminosity. On account of its lustre it is some-
what tricky in reproduction, as, unless reflections are
carefully guarded against by the photographer, it may
photograph more faintly than the drawing, some parts
even disappearing altogether. The softer the pencil, or,
in other words, the blacker the drawing, the more liable
is it to rub, and so should be fixed, unless it is to be
mounted or framed at once.

It is best not to endeavour to force the colour either
by digging into the paper, or, as the policeman and shop
assistant generally do with their pencil stumps, by licking
them, but to accept the natural limitation. No amount of
pressure will make the lead blacker, and licking only
makes it mark more freely for a stroke or two, so that
an uneven result is likely.

The drawings of many of the English illustrators of

12 LINE

the 'sixties were made upon the wood in lead-pencil—
notably those of Boyd Houghton for the Arabian Nights.
All the characteristics of pencil drawing, even some of
the flexibility of its line, are necessarily lost in a wood
engraving. This, it should be said, was not the engraver's
fault, but an inherent limitation of the method. It is
sad to realize how much of delicacy had to be destroyed
in order to print what was left !

The French wood-engraver Florian achieved a remark-
able translation of a pencil drawing that was published
in the Revue Illustre about 1890. This was a tour de
force, but it was exercised upon a larger scale than the
ordinary book or magazine could carry, and upon a
simpler drawing than is frequently necessary in illustra-
tion. Such work would be out of the question ninety-nine
times out of a hundred.

We now come to consider such instruments as are
vehicles of colour, not giving colour themselves, as do
pencil, charcoal, etc. Of pens a volume might be written.
The word is obviously derived from penna, a wing, or
wing feather, and so means originally a quill. These are
now little used even by old-fashioned lawyers, though a
judge may still punctuate his summing-up with a large
feather; but the general use of quills is recalled by the
word penknife, long after the association of the ideas of
knife and pen has ceased.

Artists and colourmen still call a certain type of small
steel-barreled drawing pen by the name of " crow-quills."

Metal pens used by the Romans at the time of the
occupation of Britain are to be seen in our London
Museums, but it was not till well into the nineteenth
century that the metal pen was so improved as gradually
to supplant the quill in popular use.

DRAWING MATERIALS 13

At the present time -the choice is so great that every
fancy can be met, from the sharpest point to the broadest
chisel edge, cut at any angle — with one or more slits and

" THE VISION OF SIN

Practically the same in treatment as the " Lady Flora " drawing,

based as it is mainly upon two thicknesses of line, being laid in heavily

with a Waverley pen, and qualified with a 303 Gillot.

It is pleasant to remember that Phil May wrote " Kow-Tow " on
the margin of this drawing.

with or without reservoirs, and in so great a variety of
patterns as to be bewildering.

It is advisable to have a number of penholders, each

14 LINE

fitted with a different style and width of pen point, so
that the right instrument can immediately be chosen.
The correct pen to use will depend upon the scale of

FROM " OMAR KHAYYAM "

An effort to maintain stringency of style in the presentation at once

of form and light and shade without allowing the effort or the method

to obtrude itself. (Pen used, Gillott's 303.)

the intended work, upon the surface upon which the
drawing is to be made, and the style in which it is pro-
posed to draw. For a clear line of unvarying thickness,
as in so-called " decorative " work, a stiffish pen that

DRAWING MATERIALS 15

naturally yields the required thickness without pressure
is the best. Where surface modelling is to be attempted,
if simple, a greater degree of flexibility is desirable ; but
where the range of " colour " is great, or fine shades or
textures are to be suggested, the pen point should be as
fine as possible, but so flexible that it will readily yield
a rich, fat line on pressure, but, this relaxed, will immedi-
ately give a fine line again, like a good sable brush.

A great deal of nerve will be saved and better results
will be obtained by seeing to it that the right pens are
handy when required, as a drawing may easily be ruined by
attempting to carry on with a pen unsuited to the purpose.

A fine pen that has to be pressed upon steadily through-
out the length of a line in order to make it yield the
requisite thickness will generally betray the artist into
irrelevant accents. The choice of such a pen is a more
common error than that of choosing a too heavy one,
since timidity is more common than boldness, against
which it is not generally necessary to issue a warning.

A curious instrument is used by packers for addressing
parcels that may be of interest and sometimes of use to
the artist. It is a facile means of drawing generous
curves on a large scale, as it is designed to carry a large
supply of ink, and should be handled on the chisel edge
principle, or as the quill was used by the old scribes.
For large work it is difficult to imagine anything better,
unless it be a brush.

Reed pens, like the quill, have been almost entirely
supplanted by the steel nib. The writer has small
experience of them, but well remembers J. Pennell, that
most expert technician, getting excited about them ; and
if an artist can become pleasurably excited about the
handling of a tool, that tool is for the time being the

l6 LINE

best possible. That it is the calamus of the ancients
lends it a special charm. A set of them as used by the
Egyptians can be seen in a case at the British Museum,
doubtless as they fell from the hand of the artist as
though but yesterday, whom age-long death has made
more reverend in our eyes. They are not always easy
to buy since " The demand is so small. The last has
just been sold," or " The new consignment that we are
expecting has not yet arrived from Japan " — so that just
when they are wanted they may not be had in the shops.

Of instruments that leave a trace without colour either
by incision or in a yielding material such as wax, the
most important are the wood-cutter's knife, the engraver's
burin, and the etcher's needle.

The stylus was probably the earliest writing instru-
ment, being used to impress marks in wax or clay, and
though it has doubtless had a certain influence in the
formation of letters, this has been almost obliterated by
the use of the pen by which the original design has been
modified, and the strokes even in our modern movable
types are derived rather from the thin and thick strokes
of the pen than from the incisions of the stylus, punch, or
chisel. Frequently the carved inscriptions on our monu-
ments and gravestones show the reactionary influence of
penmanship, the child, in this case more paradoxically
than usual, fathering the man.

The etcher's needle is the nearest approach to the stylus
in common modern employment by artists, used as it is
either as a " dry point " or preliminary to the use of acid.

In dry point a line is scratched upon a metal plate,
the ploughed scratch throwing up what is called the
" burr " by the side of the incised line in proportion to
the depth of the scratch made. It is mainly this burr

DRAWING MATERIALS 17

which holds the printing ink when the plate is wiped
after being heavily coated with it. Either a steel needle
or a diamond point is used.

The late William Strang devised an instrument with
a hooked end which he used largely for forcible dry-
point work; this instrument required less effort than
the straight needle, as it made a more direct incision, and
could be dragged with more facility, as well as guided
with more precision and certainty than the needle, which
is capable of running away with the hand.

The true " etcher's " needle is either the same or an
instrument similar to that he uses for dry point, but its
purpose is not to make an incision in the plate, which,
for " etching " proper, has previously been coated with
wax, but only to scratch away the wax and so lay bare
the metal to the subsequent action of acid. It is the
acid and not the needle which furrows the line in such a
manner that it will hold the desired width and depth of
printer's ink. The word " etching " means "biting,"
and refers, not, as is frequently thought, to the use of
the needle, but to the use of the acid. An " etching,"
or eau forte, is the result of two main operations, respec-
tively biting and scratching, which operations should
not be confused. The present writer once ventured to
introduce this definition of the two processes as " biting
and scratching " into the draft of an official report ; but
it never got beyond the draft, being considered too vivid
and undignified for an official document.

The burin is a V or wedge-shaped chisel, which is
driven through the surface of the metal or wood from
which it ploughs out a strip without leaving a burr, as
does the dry point, which " ears " the metal without
removing it. When used for engraving on metal the

l8 LINE

finished plate is covered with printing ink and then
wiped, as in etching : this leaves the ink in the incised
line, while the surface of the plate is clean. A print being
taken, the line represents the trough cut by the burin
in the metal. The ordinary visiting card is an example
of engraving on copper ; but the printing of these, where
many are required, is frequently done by taking transfers
from the plate to a lithographic stone, so that a number
can be printed at once, more rapidly and at less expense.

In the case of a wood-engraving the reverse takes place.
It is not those parts removed by the burin that afford
lodgment for the printer's ink, but the surface left standing
and untouched by it. The sunk parts receive no ink at
all, only those parts left at the original level of the block
receiving ink from the roller with which ink is applied.
It is not the black line, dot, or space in the print, but the
white line, dot, or space, which represents the labour of
the engraver. " Wood-peckers " was the appropriate
nickname for the engravers at the time when the papers
and magazines relied on artists and engravers for their
illustrations, before the camera and the " process-monger "
or " process-server " supplanted first one and then the
other, scattering them like ninepins in a skittle alley.

Wood-cutting is one of the earliest means used for
the reproduction and multiplication of drawings by
printing. It was supplanted in Europe by the introduc-
tion of the burin, previously used only for engraving on
metal; which introduction is generally attributed to the
Bewicks. Wood-cutting and wood-engraving differ in
two ways; for not only is the tool employed a knife in
one case and a chisel in the other, but the wood used is
different, not only in its character, being softer for cutting
(as pear or cherry) and hard for engraving (generally box),

DRAWING MATERIALS IQ

but the wood-cutter uses the block plank-wise, while the
engraver uses the end grain. The use of the graver
made much finer and more elaborate work possible;
while the primary hardness of the wood and the direction
of the grain made it possible to print practically unlimited
editions under conditions that would have worn out a
pear-tree block.

Of late years artists have revived the use of the soft
plank wood for original work, as well as the wood-cutter's
knife. Even linoleum has been employed in place of
wood. As stereotypes, electrotypes, or photographic
reproductions can be made from these if necessary, the
size of an edition is not limited by the softness of the
wood or other material chosen by the artist, though
naturally the character of the work to be done is influenced
by the limitations of the tools and materials employed.
Very fine and minute work will require a hard surface
and a precise instrument, while for broad lines and masses
the softer the better, consistently with the printing
requirements of the surface.

For commercial purposes both wood-engraving and
wood-cutting have been almost extinct for many years,
being employed only by enthusiasts for particular pur-
poses and effects, such as limited editions appealing only
to the few, of book plates and such-like, where the
designer usually acts as his own engraver or cutter for
love of the method rather than for love of profit — out
of which starved conditions so much good work arises.

The use of the word " wood-cut " remains — even
shortened to " cuts," in reference to engravings on wood,
or to other, even photographic, methods of reproduction
where no engraving tool, let alone a knife, has been
employed. Without any desire to be pedantic, it is

20 LINE

thought worth while to point out, particularly to writers
on art, the interesting differences that exist between
wood-cuts and wood-engravings and process reproductions,
and the consequent importance of discrimination. There
is as much likeness and as much technical difference as
between dry and wet fly-fishing and tickling for trout, or
between the use of the rifle, the smooth-bore and the air-
gun. There is room for a book on the sportsmanship of Art.

In a category by themselves stand lithographic " chalk "
and lithographic " ink," which are very nearly of the
same composition, consisting of the same elements
differently proportioned. Each name is in a sense a
misnomer, as the substance is neither chalk nor ink in
the generally accepted sense of either word. It is true
that in so far as " ink " may be derived from " encaustic "
in its relation to burnt wax, there is a certain coincidental
connection of ideas between " ink " as commonly used
and the lithographic ink invented by Senefelder.

This " chalk " or " ink " is generally compounded of
soap, tallow, wax, bitumen and lampblack in varying pro-
portions ; the soap being introduced to render it soluble
in water, the tallow and wax to render it resistant to acid
and water, and the black to make the effect of the artist's
work clearly visible to him while making the drawing.

It .is upon these properties that lithography is based,
lithography being the art of drawing upon and printing
from stone. If the stone upon which a drawing in this
chalk has been made be damped, it is possible to charge
the drawing with printing ink from a roller, without
soiling the stone where no grease has previously been
deposited. As, however, on account of the rapid drying
of the stone and other risks such as excessive pressure
from the roller, the white parts of the stone are apt to

DRAWING MATERIALS 21

take ink and " scum," to use the printer's phrase, the
stone is treated with a mild solution of nitric acid, which
serves two purposes. First, it fixes the soap which forms
a large proportion of the ingredients of the chalk or ink,
and, secondly, it opens up the surface of the stone,
slightly pitting and roughening it. The stone is then
treated with a wash of gum which enters the pores of the
stone, from which no amount of water alone will dislodge
it. The gum prevents the tallow from spreading in the
stone; and it remains damp longer, and as gum itself
rejects grease, it is then safe to proceed with the damping
and rolling up of the stone with ink. Even should the
gum dry, and grease be applied, this is readily washed
away, as it will not penetrate the gum.

Lithographic, chalk is made in varying degrees of
hardness and softness. It is generally sold in round or
square sticks, but can be bought in the same form as
lead-pencils encased in wood or strips of paper. It is
capable of making a mark as fine as the most delicate
lead-pencil, or may be made to yield a stroke as fat and
black as may be obtained from Siberian charcoal.

Lithography has of late years been much revived by
artists, after it had fallen into disrepute on account of its
having been vulgarized by ignorant hands for com-
mercial purposes. No finer work was produced during
the war than the posters of Brangwyn and the series of
drawings made direct on the stone, some actually under
fire, by Spencer Pryse. The Senefelder Club has been the
main instrument of this revival, and the writer is proud
to have been its godfather.

For its employment to the best advantage no amount of
time or trouble should be spared to obtain a suitably grained
surface upon the stone for the style of drawing proposed.

22 LINE

The best work can only be obtained by directness of
treatment; that is, by striking the full force of the
intended line or tone at the very beginning, coaxing the
chalk into the grain of the stone with a firm hand. If
this is not done, the chalk is simply piled up upon the
tips of the grain, and a harsh ropiness inevitably results,
instead of the juicy or velvety richness of which the
medium is peculiarly capable, but which can only be
obtained by coaxing the chalk as far as desirable into
the valleys of the grain at the outset.

The usual way of sharpening lithographic chalk is with
a penknife cutting from the proposed point backwards,
as in the case of ordinary crayon ; and as the chalk wears
away rapidly upon the stone, this must be frequently
done if a sharp point is required. The writer claims a
little credit for devising a method whereby time, temper
and trouble may be saved, and all waste of chalk done
away with. His method is to take the chalk and hold
one end some little way above a lighted candle or other
flame — a match will do. Care should be taken to soften
only, and not to melt the chalk, sufficiently to make it
easy to roll or press the end into any desired shape between
the fingers. This is the work of a few seconds, and a
point of any fineness or a chisel edge can be obtained at
will. Of course, the chalk is lengthened in the process,
so that a new chalk will not go back into the box in
which it was purchased. It is therefore advisable to
have another box ready to receive the newly-sharpened
sticks — an ordinary cigarette carton is as good as any-
thing for this purpose. Ten or a dozen sticks may be
sharpened or reshaped in a few minutes in this method,
and a constant supply of points kept ready at hand. Odd
ends or stumps of chalk which would otherwise be thrown

DRAWING MATERIALS 23

away may be softened and stuck together by heating
the ends of two at once over the flame, squeezing them
together, and rolling the joint between the fingers till it
is thoroughly welded.

This little device should save a lithographer consider-
ably more than the price of this book every year, and I
have much pleasure in laying him under a slight obligation.

Further, as lithography is the most autographic of all
the means of reproduction, every artist should practise
it. If such were the case, all artists, and not only litho-
graphers, 'would be in my debt, which is a happy thought
wherewith to conclude my chapter on points.

Ill

ABSTRACT STRAIGHT LINES, ANGLES AND CURVES

A LINE is a trace of a moving point.
Lines are considered to be either straight or curved,
according to the presence or absence of curvature
appreciable to the eye.

The Euclidian definition holds good of a straight line
as being the shortest line between two given points.

All measurement is relative. But in order to establish
any system of measurement it is necessary to find a unit
either to multiply or divide.

In any consideration of concrete line and the constitu-
tion of a curve we must start with a point.

For the artist's purposes, apart from the mathema-
^^P^^ tician's, a point must be visible, as in
[ ^V the centre of the circle A; and in order
I . 1 to be visible it must have a certain
^^ J magnitude, unlike the theoretic point of

the mathematician. The concrete point
most nearly approaching the theoretic
must therefore be considered as having
magnitude, but not greater in one direction than another ;
and must therefore be circular.

All lines, no matter whether curved or straight or what
their direction, consist of a series of tangential points as
at B.

ABSTRACT LINES 25

For the purposes of demonstration we may imagine
these points much magnified — as here : -^—^

so that they are not only visible, but ( j

may the more easily be conceived ^~~\
of as having a diameter as any con- \^^/
crete thing must have ; since nothing exists which cannot
be conceived of as being divisible. Nevertheless these
points are to be looked upon as the smallest possible
units to be employed in practice.

A line has length greater than its breadth ;
therefore the shortest conceivable line will
consist of two tangential points (as shown

Cat G), whose united diameters form the
ip! smallest unit of any line; since even if a

third point C}A be added whose diameter does not

continue the line of the other two diameters, this cannot
affect the relation already established between the two
points, which may be said to be as nearly as possible
absolute, as shown at D.

D

It will be seen that the point marked QQ establishes

with each point it touches a relation similar to that
already existing between the other two points, so forming
a new unit of line.

So long as the diameters of the units meet they will form

26 LINE

a continuous straight line as at E ; should they change
direction gradually and progressively as from F they will

QQQQQQQQe(

E F

form'a curve. But should they change direction abruptly
or violently and continue in another straight line (as at G)
a perceptibly angular figure will be produced, without
the characteristics of a curve, the essential quality of
which is in the slight perceptibility of the angles of
which it is composed.

OQQOQOCD

The character of the line will depend upon two factors.
First, the number of points, if any, whose diameters
combine beyond the inevitable two; and second, the
angles which divergent units make with each other.

The main curves are I, the circle ; II, the ellipse ; III,
the oval, and IV, the spiral; other curves being either
compounds or modifications of these.

A good idea of angles may be formed by taking a ruler
and drawing the letter V in a good bold Roman character.
Let the lines be three inches each; then see how many
more V's can be drawn inside it before the two arms touch
and so become one line. Having drawn as many as possible
inside it, try how many can be drawn outside it from the
apex before the two lines become continuous as one
horizontal line, like the outer sticks of an extended fan.

If all these lines are kept of even length they will be
the radii of a circle. If from the V's drawn with the aid

ABSTRACT LINES 27

of a ruler the eight or ten which most nearly divide the
space between the upright and the horizontal are chosen
and the ends joined, it will be seen, that although the

Curves I, II and III composed of straight lines, drawn with a ruler.
Curve IV partly freehand.

resulting line is in every part straight, the total effect
is that of a continuous curve, hardly distinguishable from
a circle drawn with the compasses.

Now look at a watch. At three o'clock everyone knows

28

LINE

Sketch to show how rhythm and continuity are maintained through the
tangential point of curves of like or unlike orders, so that inter-
section is avoided. The dotted lines show the order of the curve.

ABSTRACT LINES 2Q

that the hands form a '* right angle," or an angle of 90° —
the angle at which one line is at its greatest opposition
to another, as at the corner of a square.

Every minute represents 6°.

If a line be drawn from nine o'clock to three o'clock
we have a straight horizontal line, and from twelve to
six o'clock a vertical line dividing it into two equal parts.

If we draw a wide V of equal sides from 14! minutes
to twelve Jo 14! minutes past, it will make an internal
angle of 174° ; the divergence from the horizontal will
be 3° on each side, or half a minute, the total divergence
being 6°, or one minute. If we now add a line of equal
length to each tip of the V, making a similar angle, and
to these again add similar lines, we shall eventually
arrive at a 6o-sided figure, just as though we had joined
up the 60 points that mark off the minutes upon the
watch face. The experiment may be tried with a box of
matches or cigarettes, laying them end to end, and
noticing how soon the straight units appear to be lost in
a sense of curvature.

What practically amounts to a circle will have been
made without striking from a centre at all.

Let us now take a square.

By cutting off the corners at an angle of 45° so as to
make a regular octagon (while curiously enough the sides
are not half the length of the sides of the square) we
immediately approach a rough suggestion of the circle,
which is intensified with each halving of the sides and
doubling of the angles. A square of paper may be taken
and the corners cut off or folded down again and again
for this experiment, counting the number of cuts or folds
before it becomes impossible to " circularize " the square
further.

I had the curiosity to work out the proportions at

LINE

which the straight line becomes practically indistinguish-
able from a curve; or, in other words, the number of
points necessary to establish a curve.

Sketch of curves composed entirely of straight lines drawn with a ruler.

For this purpose I drew a 6" square, in which I in-
scribed a regular octagon, the sides of which work out
at 2|". Then by cutting off the corners to produce a
regular i6-sided figure a distinct suggestion of a circle
was arrived at; while the 32-sided figure is so nearly

ABSTRACT LINES

Curves composed entirely of straight lines drawn with a rule. Some
angles are left deliberately obvious to the eye.

circular that it requires neat workmanship and a fine
line to subdivide the angles again in such a way as to
discriminate clearly the 64 sides from the parent 32.
This means that a regular polygon of 32 sides may for

LINE

most practical purposes of the artist be regarded as a
circle, which may be interpreted into the statement that
a continuous straight line which is divided into equal
lengths, each length diverging nf° from the last, will
eventually meet, and when viewed as a whole will give
a distinct sense of circularity. If the degree of divergence
be diminished so that a figure with a greater number of
sides (say 60 or 64) is produced, the eye will be deceived.
A figure of 128 sides becomes an almost theoretic
circle, though the divergence of each side from its neigh-
bour amounts to 2ff°, or almost half a minute.

In practice to inscribe a figure of 256 sides having a
divergence of i^-f ° would be a task of great delicacy on
any manageable scale, and in the rough experiment
made an impossibility, as any multiple of 64 would have
been included in the thickness of the line already drawn.
From 8 to 16 points in a quadrant will therefore be a

sufficient number of points
to establish to arrive at a
sense of continuous curva-
ture, and frequently it will
be found that the fewer
points established the hand-
somer the curve will appear.
Watts 's theory that largeness
of style in draughtsmanship
depended upon a flattening
of curvature, as though a
small curve were made up
of a system of greater curves, is exemplified here.

By varying the length of the straight units of line, or
the angle of diversion, or both, any conceivable curve
may be arrived at, as may be experimentally shown with
a set of picture wedges, as in the sketch.

ABSTRACT LINES

33

By successive reductions in the length of line while
maintaining the same angle of diversion the rate of
curvature will be proportionately increased, as well as
the smoothness of the curve, which will, if sufficiently
continued, from a straight stem rapidly become spiral.

Before proceeding to draw curves with a free hand, it
is well to become acquainted with these simple facts, and
to carry out exercises with a pencil and a ruler, first in the
production of circles by joining up the ends of a number
of radii, and next by breaking down the triangle, square,
or other regular-sided figure by arithmetical progression.

Having arrived at the conclusion that anything beyond
32 points at regular angles and intervals to each other
will, if joined by straight lines, be sufficient to establish the
sense of circularity, and that therefore 8 or more such points
will establish a quadrant, we may form some idea of the
number of points requisite to establish any curve (Fig. i).

Without going into the mathematical principle of the
ellipse, but regarding it roughly either as a circle com-
pressed at one diameter, or evenly extended at another,
we may exercise our sense of curvature by first making
an oblong or rectangular figure, and proceeding to break
down the angles, much as we did in the case of the square
(Fig. 2).

34

LINE

The ellipse and the oval are frequently confused on
account of their similarity, but to arrive at the true
oval by means of breaking down angles or cutting off
corners, a quadrilateral of two equal and two unequal
sides should be drawn, the unequal sides being parallel
to each other, according to the desired proportions of the
oval (Fig. 3).

On the same principle we may arrive at the spiral

curve, or volute. Let us begin with a tall upright line,
as tall as our paper conveniently allows, and at right
angles to it at one end draw a shorter horizontal line,
then a shorter line at right angles, and so on, so that
we arrive at the figure of the Greek fret, which is then
broken down by cutting off the angles as in the preceding
examples (Figs. 5, 6).

It will be seen how the curve is accelerated by the
progressive shortening of the straight lines composing it,
while the angles are kept similar. If the width of the
angles is reduced still more, rapid curvature is the result.

By increasing the angle of divergence the curve will
become more rapid or even violent. If too much
increased the angle will become obvious to the eye, and
the sense of curvature be lost, but a divergence of 6° or
even 12° (of from a minute to two minutes of move-

ABSTRACT LINES 35

ment of the hands of a watch) will maintain the character
of a curve if there be a sufficient number of these
divergences.

In the stealthy employment of a scarcely perceptible
angle often lies the life and beauty of a curve, and
its character of vigour
or languor, its speed or
slowness.

It will be seen that
only two generations from
the square are needed for
a figure to acquire much
more the character of a
circle than of a square.
The third generation from
the square — its great-
grandson — the 3 2 -sided
figure, is already to all
intents and purposes a
circle, though requiring
a little polish. By the
next generation all trace

of the harshness of its Sketch suggesting that even within

... measurable distances the curvature

origin IS Obliterated, and of a true circle may become prac-

bevnnrl thk Hiffprpnrps tically indistinguishable from a

Dev01 'es straight line, and that a circle struck

become indistinguishable. at infinity is a straight line.

It would be a nice though fairly simple calculation to
work out the exact divergence from the circle struck at
six miles from Charing Cross of one side of a regular
128-sided figure inscribed within it, but it would be
fairly safe to wager that there is hardly a micrometer
made that would detect the curvature in a yard cut from
a circle mathematically true.

Ill

(Continued)
FREEHAND DRAWING OF ABSTRACT LINES

HAVING now acquired some knowledge of the con-
stitution of the various curves, considered as combinations
of straight units, we may proceed to exercise our know-
ledge by practising the production of such curves freehand,
without mechanical aid.

If a large Roman I and a large O be made with a J pen
handled as a chisel edge for the finest parts of the line
and gradually presenting the flat to the paper for the
thick parts, it will be seen that since the I consists of
a straight line, and the O as drawn with a pen consists
of a circle in contour, and contains an ellipse, we find
in these three of the most important elements in abstract
line, already discussed.

From combinations of these lines or parts of them, all
the remainder of the alphabet is formed, as A E F H I
K L M N T V W X Y Z, all straight letters ; C O Q S,
all curved ; while B D G J P R U are combinations.

There can be no better or pleasanter exercise for the
hand than the formation of these letters with a pen if a
good model be chosen, and if the pen be properly handled.
An ordinary J pen should be taken, if the special pens
made for scribes are not available ; then holding the pen
flat to the paper a bold down stroke should be made with
the full breadth of the pen, but without applying pressure.
For practice several of these down strokes should be made,
and the pen then turned sideways so that the chisel edge

36

Ruled lines vary little
from each other except
in thickness, and con-
sequently may give a
mechanical effect : but
except for this there
is no immorality or
" cheating " involved
in the use of a ruler
where it will serve the
purpose.

Freehand slowly drawn Deliberately wavy
straight lines have a lines are useful for
character of their own, many purposes, par-
being almost inevitably ticularly to avoid a

slightly waved.

mechanical effect.

4

Swiftly drawn freehand
lines have a smooth-
ness approaching the
mechanical, and tend
towards curvature.
Hard smooth forms are
often best expressed by
a swift line.

5 6

Lines varying in thick- Lines gradated at both
ness in their_course. ends, being thickest in

the middle.

8

Characteristic line'of a
chisel edge rhythmi-
^ cally employed.

Lines thick at one end

and thin at the other

for emphasis and grad-

tion respectively.

Lines

7

thick
end.

at each

A SUMMARY OF THE POSSIBLE VARIA-
TIONS IN THE QUALITY OF A LINE

37

38 LINE

is presented to the paper, to make a series of fine strokes
at an angle of about 45° to the horizontal.

A combination of fine and heavy strokes should then
be essayed, for instance, by drawing a series of large
Roman A's.

Do not press upon the pen, but notice how the
design of the letter has largely grown out of the natural
and most easy manner of holding the pen itself. It is
quite outside a good calligraphist's methods to " paint
up " the thickness of a letter — he makes the pen do it
for him first by choosing the correct type of instrument,
and then using it in the right way. Don't fight your
pen ; take Walton's advice about the worm — " handle
him as though you loved him." More than a worm, a
pen will turn.

Now make a series of large O's. These may be made
in two strokes, both downwards, one from the top slightly
to the left, the second from the same point, to meet the
first at each end. This is to avoid splutter. It requires
a light hand to move the pen upwards without catching
in the paper ; with a sharply-pointed pen no wise person
will take the risk more than once. Gently does it.

A well-shaped P Q R S U should then be attempted,
all of various sizes.

After drawing an O somewhat small and as nearly
circular as possible, and using a broad pen as has been
directed, it will be noticed that the included space will
form a very passable ellipse ; and it will be a good exercise
to endeavour to draw a series of O's starting with a circular
one, and each succeeding one based on the inside curvature
of the last, so that eventually we arrive at a very com-
pressed curve.

Exercises should then be carried out in drawing

FREEHAND DRAWING OF ABSTRACT LINES

39

ellipses with the long axis horizontal and in other
directions as in Fig. i.

A very frequent failing in the drawing of ellipses, is
that instead of turning well at the ends, the two long

2 3

sides come to a sharp point, or very nearly so, instead
of forming a continuous and regular curve. This is a
highly important matter, not only because the figure

40 LINE

is not so graceful in itself, but that, in the drawing of
cylindrical solids, it is essential that full value should
be given to this turn, otherwise they will appear to be
flattened in depth, and to come to an edge, as in Fig. 2 .
The further above or below the level of the eye the more
nearly circular will the ellipse appear; so that the
common error exemplified in Fig. 3 should be noted for
avoidance. It is well to acquire some facility in the
drawing of this curve in every position, and in varying
sizes and proportions.

The ellipse arises from a section through the axis of a
right cone, and varies in proportion according to the angle
of the section. From this to the egg form is a natural step.

This is probably the curve most generally found in
natural forms, either singly or in combination, so that
in some ways it is the most important of all. It is closely
related to the ellipse and the parabolic and hyperbolic
curves, and might well be thought to be a section of
the right cone like them; but this is not the case.

Connected with this is the spiral curve, such as is
made by a conical spring or screw. This will be less
frightening in practice if it is realized in the mind much
as a series of capital M's or E's as many people write
them, or as a child draws smoke coming out of a chimney,
and the hand exercised in making the curve with its
free and natural rhythm, without too much sense of
responsibility to begin with, but taking the risk of failure
quite light-heartedly.

In script, indeed, which arises from the readiest method
of combining the various forms of letters into words,
and curvature affording the most rapid means of transi-
tion, we find the straight letters gradually becoming
curved, and a natural rhythm is produced by the hand
itself taking the line of least resistance.

FREEHAND DRAWING OF ABSTRACT LINES

These forms arise only from the use of the pen, and
bear no reference to the use of the chisel, where the con-
necting stroke would be a most laborious undertaking.
To see imitation script over shop fronts carried out in
carved and gilded lettering is a perpetual affront to a
well-formed taste, even though it may be unable to give
its reason off-
hand ; and "Sacred
to the Memory of "
carved upon a
headstone with all
a writing-master's
flourish is a
desecration.

A rhythmical
combination of all
the curves is to
be found in the
musical sign of the
treble clef, as
here indicated.

The student who
has mastered these
curves may con-
fidently proceed to
apply them either
to the composition
of ornamental de-
sign, or to the representation of objects, since 'he has
already dealt with every element of curvature to be met
with; prpportion and arrangement are the only lions
in his path, so far as drawing is concerned, apart from
emotional expression.

FREEHAND DRAWING OF NATURAL FORMS, CONSISTING
MAINLY OF PLANE SURFACES OR SINGLE LINES

HITHERTO consideration has been directed entirely to
ideal, non-representative curvatures and abstract lines.

Though the elements studied appear to be so few, it
is out of these that the infinite variety of form in Nature
is built up; and Art itself, the last and highest product
of Nature.

The simplest natural objects to study from the draughts-
man's point of view will be such as most nearly approx-
imate to the two dimensions in which he himself works —
length and breadth. Of course, even a leaf, a feather
and a butterfly's wing have thickness, but it is so slight
as to be generally negligible, being frequently less than
that of the line used in demarcation.

One of the first things noticeable in natural objects is
that, while they appear to be made to pattern, it is very
rare to find two objects exactly alike, except in general
plan. Symmetry is there in the main, but with minute
differences and divergences; in the case of plant form,
for instance, according to conditions of soil, climate, or
other accidents.

It will be seen in the study of natural form how
generally the curvature is made up on some such prin-
ciple as that upon which the circle was built up, of a
multitude of sides rather than from a simple single curve.

The simplest form of leaf may, to a hasty glance,
appear to be composed of a straight and stiff midrib in-

42

In Nature there is generally to be found under the main rhythmical

curve a minor recurrent rhythm, full of incident and variation. The

mathematical simplicity of the rainbow is not frequently met with.

43

44 LINE

tersecting the arcs of two circles, but upon closer observa-
tion many varieties in the curvature are likely to appear.
The midrib itself may be composed of a series of slight
curves, and the outline of the leaf full of minor unexpected
oddities that in sum may constitute its chief beauty.

To find an apparently rotund and sweeping curve
made up of lines almost straight at unexpected angles, or
a line that is almost straight full of delicate incident, is
the best corrective to a hand inclined to dominate a
drawing with the too glib flourishes of the writing or
drawing master, which contain no pause and no variety,
becoming mechanical and machine-like in their accuracy
with no element of surprise. Nature rarely yields to
such; she generally dwells lovingly upon her line, with
many a slight pause and turn; nor is the line often
flabby or relaxed or turgid, but firm and strenuous. Even
the most luscious peach or plum has considerable flatten-
ings and varieties in its curvature, and the pulpiest
orange may be far from round. Nature, as artist, appears
to work much more by hand than by machinery; for in
spite of her power and the perpetual repetition of kinds
and seasons, she does not turn out an eternal series of
exact replicas, but each is subject to accidents of time
and place, like those of any other artist. Her works are
the result of many experiments, trials and compromises
between apparently conflicting laws and interests. Fre-
quently it is possible to remark how the main intention
has partially miscarried or been entirely frustrated
because her elbow has been jogged. Evolution seems to
consist in the making and discarding of an interminable
succession of sketches and studies, each one of which
might be described as a masterpiece until the next comes
along, and the sketch for it is destroyed.

FREEHAND DRAWING OF NATURAL FORMS 45

While it is frequently necessary that the artist should
simplify or summarize the works of Nature, presenting
us with the central essential fact rather than refining it
away by an over-emphasis upon variations and subtleties,
these should not be overlooked.

While wishing to insist on a close study of Nature, it
is not intended to inculcate a photographic or imitative
reproduction of the external facts observed. Equally
with Nature, Art and its purposes and conventions must
be taken into account, with the necessity for selection
from the mass, the choice of the right means to employ,
in order to present the selection when made, and the
method of that presentation either simple or complex.

If the laws underlying appearances be studied the
variety of Nature will be better appreciated, and conse-
quently better displayed by the artist when he deals
with appearances for their own sake. If appearance
only be studied, the artist becomes dependent upon
things external to himself, and is unlikely to arrive at
the power to combine or compose unlike things into a
harmonious whole. The laws of growth and construc-
tion, the " how " of things, are at least as important to
the artist as the appearances of them under given con-
ditions or accidents of light or position, interesting as
these particulars may be : indeed to the draughtsman
logical construction takes a higher place than accuracy
of appearance.

It is the degree and number of divergences from the
norm or " average," if these can be established, that yields
not only beauty but interest and character to all things.
Bacon, in his essay on Beauty, insists upon a " degree of
strangeness in the proportions." The " perfect," if there is
such a thing, is hardly beautiful or interesting. A " perfect

46 LINE

gentleman " or " perfect lady " is called for by a crude
or inexperienced mind in a novelette, but not in Shake-
speare, who shows us divergence rather than conformity
with a stock specimen, the interest generally deepening
with the extent of the divergence, while yet the main
curve, the credibility, of the character, is maintained.

There are also several natural forms, such as certain
kinds of grass and reeds, so slender and graceful that
they may frequently be represented by the use of a single
rather than a double line. Distant trees may sometimes
be better expressed by such means.

In most cases of growing plants and trees, it is the
best plan to draw them from the ground upwards, in order
to get the sense of life, growth and spring into the line.

It looks as though Turner drew his trees in this manner,
for they always appear to be growing out of the earth,
and not hung by their leaves out of the sky, or just stuck
into the ground without roots, like telegraph poles, as
so often they appear in pictures.

Landscape painters are so preoccupied with problems
of mass, light, air, tone, or colour, that their drawing is
sometimes lifeless and stiff, since they draw the inessential
shape rather than the necessary construction.

Like Turner, the Japanese give invariably this sense
of life and growth by the vivacity of their draughtsman-
ship, which never appears as though it had been " blocked
out " in mass, or even thought of in that way, but to be
based upon the principles of construction and growth.

The use of the brush-tip for line drawing is also to be
taken into account as the frequently deciding factor in
the Japanese line ; as the flexibility of the brush demands
constant alertness of handling and consequent vivacity
of attention on the part of the artist.

THE THIRD AND FOURTH DIMENSIONS

APART from the more limited view of perspective as
the projection of solid objects upon a plane surface, it
may properly be denned as being the expression of the
relative position of the observer to the object observed.
With every movement on the part of one or the other,
change takes place in this relation, so that it is generally
thought necessary for the artist to take up or imagine a
fixed moment in time and a fixed position in space by
which all parts of his picture are related one to another,
and to himself. Time is nothing but movement, whereas
the pictorial conception most usually adopted is static.
In early days many of these relations were either over-
looked or ignored, and it cannot be denied that the
introduction of the expression of the third dimension
into pictorial art, while adding another string to the
bow of the artist, has misled him as frequently as not
rather to a display of science than of art, while his task
has become more complex with the added complexity of
the means placed at his disposal.

A scientific attempt at truth to appearances took the
place of a quite happy understanding that Art was a
convention in which symbols and not realities were
employed; but with the introduction of a close realism,
so close as even to attempt deceptiveness of appearance,
the symbol began to lose its force.

The world became tired of the perfected conventions

47

4» LINE

of pattern, and welcomed each step forward in the direction
of naturalness of appearance, until every competent art
student could, if he would, paint a bunch of grapes like
that (probably fabled and certainly horrible) bunch by
Zeuxis that took in the fly, and has taken in countless
people, like flies, as to the proper functions of Art ever since.

However, that was the way of the world, and the way
of the artist in it. Increasing realism and naturalism —
" copyism " we may call it, if we may coin an ugly word —
ran through all the arts, till it was difficult to distinguish
painting from a photograph, or stage or novel dialogue
from a gramophone record of a conversation.

The true convention of Art, apart from the convention
temporarily (i. e. fashionably) uppermost, was in danger
of being lost. Even " Impressionism," that staid effort
to reassert the personality of the artist, while endeavour-
ing with considerable success to absorb all that was new
in the way of scientific analysis of light and movement,
was regarded at first as revolutionary; but this was
but a beginning. The public is now so familiar with
Impressionism that it is looked upon as " academic."

Even " Post-Impressionism " is old-fashioned, and
Cubism, Vorticism, Expressionism and the other -isms
are chasing after it. All of these contain varying degrees
of sincerity and truth, and will survive in accordance
with what amount they possess. An exhibition of works
by the Italian Futurists held in London some years ago
was interesting, and (how they would hate it !) " highly
respectable," as being firmly stood, apart from a good
deal of frothy anarchistic nonsense, upon a quite bourgeois
scientific basis, which we may examine under this head
of perspective.

A man in a field may see a brook in front of him.

THE THIRD AND FOURTH DIMENSIONS 49

" Absolutely charming landscape," he ejaculates. " If
anything can be more absolutely beautiful I would go a
long way to see it." Looking in the other direction he
sees a fiery bull charging at him. Turning again to the
brook, he starts to run, with a mental image of a snorting
bull, based upon a fleeting optical view rapidly enlarging
in his mind, and a brook simultaneously occupying a
larger and larger share of his field of optical vision.

" Can I jump the beautiful brook before the horrid
bull butts in behind? " is the artist's thought as he
runs, love and hatred battling in his mind.

Here are two forms of vivid and simultaneous vision,
each intensified by emotion to its utmost stretch.

How is such a problem to be tackled by the artist if, of
course, it be regarded as proper subject-matter for pictorial
Art at all ? Must he disregard his own self-consciousness ?

The brook that at one moment was beautiful will be
hateful until he is upon the other side of it. Its width
means exactly opposite things according to the point
and moment of view, though the brook is practically
constant, while the bull is rapidly becoming an ogre
filling not only the background of his thought, but chang-
ing, as we see, the entire emotional outlook upon the
scene presented to the eye.

Is the artist then to paint the brook or the bull separately
without reference or relation to his emotional stress when
viewing them, or shall he endeavour to present not only
what the eye sees in front, but the equally vivid content
of his mind ? He can't, of course, do it then and there,
but when he remembers his emotion in tranquillity in
his studio ?

A cinematograph might, of course, as a detached
spectator, produce a highly exciting film of such a subject

50 LINE

in its physical aspects, which also lend themselves
admirably to the art of Mr. Frank Reynolds of Punch.

An old tapestry designer might give a series of incidents
as happening simultaneously upon the field of his design,
but even this will be from a detached spectator's point
of view.

The painter or the critic who maintains that the
artist's business is only with what he sees with his eyes,
will insist, of course, upon his painting either the bull or
the brook at a chosen moment of optical vision.

Blake might externalize himself and present his
emanation as pursued by an ogre across asphodel and
the rivers of " this green and pleasant land."

Yet it may be said that while all of these methods
are true in part, none of them yields the exact and most
exciting record of a most exciting moment.

The Futurist endeavours to solve the problem by
superposing one picture upon another in such a way that
the sum of impressions shall appear at a glance, and in
this he is entirely logical. The only question is whether
he is aesthetically justified.

He is not content with the fixed point of view either in
time or place upon which the hitherto laws of perspective
are based, but demands a new and complex convention for
the expression of his complex emotion in the presence of
external facts.

If for a moment we will imgaine that instead of
movable eyes in a movable head, by which we are enabled
to see all round our standpoint in successive moments of
time, we had eyes all round our heads recording simul-
taneously in the brain, we should readily enough accept
the Futurist attitude as an almost normal method of
presentation.

THE THIRD AND FOURTH DIMENSIONS 51

It may be, however, sometimes even more complex
than this, since there is no reason why, if more than a
single point of view be introduced into a picture, successive
or separated instants of time should not be insisted upon.

By such means, not only those images presented to
the eye at a given moment, but those present to the
mind either in the memory, the sense of the past, or its
combining and so forecasting faculty, i. e. the sense of
the future, may become relevant to the pictorial state-
ment; and we arrive at an expression which, though
extremely complex, may approach more nearly to the
absolute than the mere statement of the visible at a
given moment from a given point of view.

There is bound to be a great overlapping of realism
and idealism in such work — the expression at once of
the present, the past and the future — of fact and idea,
in which, while pictorial unity, as it has been generally
understood, is hard to find, a higher unity may eventually
be achieved, a perspective of the whole mind — of time
as well as space, and not of the outward-looking eye
alone.

Crude attempts in this direction have comically enough
been highly popular in England ; the Futurist has only
endeavoured to bring about in a scientific manner a
synthesis such as Phiz produced when he drew Tom
Pinch dreaming his dreams at the organ — and here is the
meeting point of the extremes of Italian scientific art and
naively inartistic British sentimentality !

It is probable that the artists had arrived in their
travels at a conception of the value of relativity before
the scientists ; but this is as it should be, since it is their
own relation to things seen that has concerned them.
The nearest approach to certainty of statement is that

52 LINE

of our own relation or reaction to something else, and
it is the artist who has been at work on this from time
immemorial — to find and fix himself and his place in the
general flux, and to immortalize his moment.

In connection with the fixed point in space and time,
as regards the artistic outlook, the writer may be per-
mitted to recall a summer of long ago when painting as a
boy with his father at Normanhurst, near Battle. The
father was working upon a large canvas of a panoramic
view from the terrace, while the boy had the run of the
stables, where the horses interested him much more than
the landscape.

His father's methods of work were extremely precise;
he outlined the entire panorama topographically upon
the canvas, including every hill and tree right away into
the distance, and the boy assisted in setting out the
perspective of the tiles upon the terrace and drawing the
flower-tubs in the foreground. When this was complete
the painting began, and was carried through from day to
day with the same careful and minute accuracy until
the summer holiday was over.

While he was occupying himself in the identification
of Telham Hill in sunshine or under a cloud, and doubtless
thinking " across this hill the Normans advanced, while
in that valley — " and so on, tracing out the progress
of the Battle of Hastings as the soldier in him would —
" then Harold fell," the youngster was drawing or painting
away at horses.

There was a pony, " Killeauea," named after the
volcano by the first Lady Brassey, that struck his fancy ;
and he was making a careful study of it, held steadily
facing him by a pair of pillar reins, so that its head was
fairly close up, and the rest foreshortened. He was no

THE THIRD-- AND FOURTH DIMENSIONS 53

end pleased with the result until the stud-groom looked
over his shoulder. ' Yes — the 'ead's all right, but where's
'is barrel, sir? "

He explained foreshortening to the groom as well as
he could. " You can't see any more of it than I've
painted if you look from here," was as nearly convincing
an argument as he could muster. "That may be; but
you come and look round 'ere; there it is right enough ! "
and he insisted on proving that there it was round there
right enough.

From this was eventually deduced the reason why
Herring and other horse painters chose the broadside
view, as offering less of a puzzle to the " horse sense " of
their patrons. Though why the question as to " where's
'is chest ? " never seems to have occurred to them, does
not appear even now. It is true that the young artist
felt humiliated in that he was unable to oblige the groom
with what he so reasonably clamoured for. He would
have done so if he had known how. But his father and
all he stood for, and all tradition behind him, would have
thought him mad.

Two points of view were here called for.

As to the moment of time. His father's picture went
on, with continual daily accuracy, while the green of
summer was rapidly changing to the brown and yellow
of autumn. If it were possible to remove it strip by
strip, underneath the uppermost surface might be found
layer after layer recording such change as it became
noticeable, like a painted diary of the vanished summer.
How many pictures of lovingly recorded beauty lie under
the topmost skin of the still unfinished picture of early
autumn I do not know, but there is a great deal of my
father buried in it. He was after something which his

54 LINE

conscientious pursuance of a method would not give him.
Time beat him, or rather his method, daily on land, and
hourly in the sky.

These two examples may serve to show what
the Futurist apparently means when he speaks of
" divisionism."

To show the perspective in space of the front view of
the horse at the same time and on the same canvas as
his consciousness of the length of his barrel is put on
record, presents a nice problem in pictorial statement;
and to present a picture of the changing colour of a season
as it presents itself in a perspective of time upon a single
canvas amounts to much the same. That such a problem
in synthesis admits of a pictorial solution I am not
prepared to deny ; and, since the mind of the stud-groom
required the barrel as well as the chest of the pony which
was offered, and my father's method required the record of
the changing time and season, it appears possible that the
art of the " Futurist " will only be " filling a long-felt
want" as soon as its terms of "divisionism" become
generally understood.

In the meantime most will plant their cabbages, and
cultivate their gardens, content to be old-fashioned and
to speak the old language — like Stacey Marks, the old
R.A., painter of monks and parrots, who went down on
his knees night and morning, to thank God he was born
before everybody was so clever !

At present, a return to simplicity rather than an
advance to complexity of statement seems to be most
called for. Even a return to a use of abstract symbols
is acceptable, not only among thinking artists, but by
the most thoughtless public. An examination of the
popularjprints and ladies' journals of France, England

THE THIRD kND FOURTH DIMENSIONS 55

and America shows that what in the 'nineties would have
raised shrieks of horror at its eccentricity, almost its
immorality, is now the weekly fare of the fashionable
woman, even of the " flapper." In these journals we
find 'the illustrated pages equally divided between photo-
graphy on the one hand, and an abstract method of ultra-
conventionalized drawing on the other, in which appear-
ances are entirely disregarded.

Perspective in the sense of " projection," both linear
and aerial, is deliberately eliminated, even from the
presentation of every-day scenes of fashionable life.
Even the single point of view is done away with, and a
flat elevation is given of an abstraction of a fashionable
crowd, on the same principle as that on which an architect
bases his drawing of the fagade of a town-hall. Not only
this, but the drawing appears to be carried out with the
architect's instruments of compasses and ruling pen with
the aid of T and set squares.

In order, therefore, to understand the multiple points
of view, it is necessary to examine the single aspect with
which every student of perspective is already familiar.

Elementary as it may appear to many minds, it will
be as well to state the simple theory upon which most
pictorial art has been based since the time of Ucello.

VI

THE PICTURE PLANE

IN any work of pictorial art purporting to be based
upon unity of time and place, perspective must play a
large part, and a sense of perspective having become
general, any ignorant breach of its laws will cause mis-
understanding and consequent offence to the spectator.

The theory upon which is based all such pictorial art
as deals with the optical appearance of objects is that
a picture is a window through which the spectator looks,
and beyond the plane or glass of which all that is
represented appears.

The fixing of the distance from the spectator of this
imaginary plane is purely arbitrary ; but while this is so,
it is not implied that it is a matter requiring no considera-
tion, little as it generally gets, and unscientifically as it
is generally regarded. In practice, it is more often
"felt for" than "thought for" by the artist; but if
the principle of the picture plane be thoroughly grasped
a great deal of fumbling and the cause of many failures
unexplainable except by a misconception or disregard
of the principle may be avoided.

If the means used be a point, whether etching needle,
pencil, miniature brush, or pen, which have to be handled
by the fingers rather than by the arm, and must be
viewed at close quarters on account of the fineness of
the work, the plane must be imagined as relatively near
the eye, so that the drawing shall appear while in

56

THE PICTURE PLANE 57

progress as nearly as possible the same size as the object
drawn.

If a portrait approximately life-size is to be attempted,
the canvas (which stands for the picture plane) should
be pjaced so near the sitter that it will nearly approximate
the life in actual measurement.

This principle of the picture plane is frequently over-
looked in life schools; in some places the students, both
those close up to and those at a distance from the model,
being indiscriminately expected to fill a half imperial or
imperial sheet.

If the fiction of the fixed point of view for the point
drawings and the so-called " life-size " portrait be main-
tained, the etching, pencil, and pen drawings and painting
should all appear of the same size as the object depicted
at the distance at which they were drawn, and therefore
the same size as each other, since each is supposed to
represent a section at right angles to the axis of a cone
or pencil of rays from the eye to the object, only differing
from each other by the means of expression and the
distance at which the section is taken.

Moreover, the eye is perpetually being differently
adjusted according to the distance or nearness of an
object; so that it follows that if the fiction of a single
point in time, i. e. moment of observation, is to be
maintained, objects in order to be kept in relation in
the picture must be drawn or painted in such a manner
as to suggest this relation.

If a near object be shown in focus, an object at a
distance will be blurred, and vice versa.

Again, the angle of conscious vision is very wide,
extending even to a straight line at right angles to its
direction. It is possibly greater with some people. This

58 LINE

may be tested by holding the arms extended right and
left horizontally and as far back as possible, and bringing
them slowly forward, to discover at what point the eyes
become conscious of their presence simultaneously.

(This is a matter of some difficulty to test quite
honestly !)

It will be seen that there is a large space of partial
vision, not in this case quite dependent upon the focus,
but upon the direction of the eyes. In this space objects
could only be pictorially represented as a blur, if the
fiction of a fixed direction of the eyes is to be maintained.

From this two things may be deduced.

First, that it is unwise to set up the picture plane so as
to yield undue prominence to objects of relatively small
interest to the main subject upon which the attention is
naturally focussed; but that such objects, unless their
pattern be of value in the scheme, should be dismissed as
irrelevant, which from their nearness occupy too great a
space on the field of vision. They should therefore be
treated as non-existent for those pictorial purposes which
are based upon this convention.

Second, that it is equally unwise to extend the picture
to include more than that central cone of rays from the
eye in which objects are clearly seen at a glance, unless
the enlargement of the angle of vision adds beauty or
interest otherwise unobtainable to the central field.

In any case in fixing the picture plane these con-
siderations should not be overlooked.

I remember about 1890 making a drawing in which the
endeavour was to represent all that came within the field
of vision at a given moment. This naturally included the
right hand, and the drawing itself upon which I was
engaged. Even my knees came into the picture, and

'
THE PICTURE PLANE 59

it is probable that the blurred rim of eyeglasses, the cord,
and parts of a reduplicated nose were suggested. This
broke both the suggestions I have just put forward for
the wise course to pursue, since not only was it necessary
frequently to change the focus of the eyes, but also
their direction, in order to see clearly the different objects
introduced into the drawing, the picture plane being
fixed too near, and the angle of vision being too wide.

The attempt had a certain interest and amusement,
but I never repeated it, or saw the same thing tried until
recently exactly the same thing was done by a student at
Goldsmiths' College. Such are extreme cases of appar-
ently logical conclusions ; but the more extreme the case,
the more readily is the error detected. Any photographer
will understand the force of the above suggestions.

The picture plane, it need hardly be said, is in general
taken as being at right angles to the direction of vision,
and as being truly " plane," though, of course, in decor-
ative or panoramic work curved or angular surfaces may
have to be dealt with, involving special considerations
which lie outside the scope of our present enquiry. What
these considerations involve may, however, be indicated
by suggesting that the reader should examine his reflection
in a brightly polished spoon or dish-cover, or by sitting
close up, and much to one side of the screen at a kinema
show.

Ford Madox Brown in "Behold your son, sir!" has
blended direct vision with a curved reflection in such a
manner as to give the dignity of the result, but to subtract
all the dignity from fatherhood itself in so curiously mixed
a way, as to give at once both the sublime and the ridicu-
lous; neither, perhaps, quite true, and in sum perhaps
even less so. The reflection upon a spherical mirror shows

60 LINE

the distorted figure of an absurd little man rushing
happily forward, while a nurse or midwife stands like a
Madonna with a child in her arms. It is two pictures
in one rather than one picture — an expression of two
detached visual impressions at detached moments of
time, in two conventions, yet in a way forecasting the
attitude of the Futurists in Art, which is dealt with
elsewhere.

Let us imagine now that we are seated in the middle
of a long and simple rectangular room, facing an end
wall. Say that it is entirely unfurnished but for the
chair we sit on. The first thing noticeable is the con-
vergence of all the parallel lines of the right and left
hand walls, and the floor boards towards an unseen centre.
What is this centre?

If we rise from our chair the floor space appears larger,
and the ceiling correspondingly diminishes, though the
end wall does not appear to change. The lines of floor
and ceiling nevertheless converge in the same manner to
a centre.

If now we step right or left still looking direct at the
end wall, the centre to which the lines converge will
move with us.

This convergence or divergence from the vanishing
point has a curious effect upon the mind. From the
apparent widening of the floor boards and ceiling and
the heightening of the walls, as they approach nearer to
our position, it is natural to feel that behind our heads
they would continue to enlarge, and that if we could only
turn suddenly enough, we might catch the walls and
mantelpiece at the end in the very act of dwindling in
size to their eventual appearance.

It is a pity that Addison, composing his articles in the
long room at Holland House as he paced from the bottle

THE PICTURE PLANE 6 1

of port on one mantelpiece to the bottle of port on the
other, does not appear to have paid attention to this
sympathetically shifting quality of inanimate things, or
we might have had a charming essay upon it.

Let us now imagine our picture plane set up in this
room, like a glass screen, to divide the part we wish to
represent from that in which we stand, as the curtain
divides the stage from the auditorium.

It would be easy enough to trace off upon this screen,
window or picture plane the lines of the cornice, skirting
and floor boards, and the rectangle of the end wall, if
they did not themselves appear to move with every
movement of our own, up, down, or right and left.

We have therefore to fix upon a point of view, and its
height above the floor, or ground level; its distance
from the picture plane, and its direction, or the centre of
vision. This last is taken in all ordinary practice as
being at right angles to the picture plane.

Holbein, in his picture of "The Ambassadors".*
(National Gallery), has used two picture planes — one at
right angles for the main subject, and another, at an
acute angle, for the representation of the skull that
makes so puzzling an appearance in the lower portion.
Why he did this it is difficult to conjecture, unless to
satisfy some whim on the part of his sitters, as the trend
of his mind seems to have been all for clarity and sim-
plicity of statement, subtle though it was. I doubt his
being more than an accomplice in this matter, since he
is the last person to be suspected of being a mystificateur
or practical joker. He may have been giving a practical
exposition of perspective to a couple of minds kind
enough to be curious in such matters.

If the direction of the eye be parallel with the length
of the room and the floor boards, the unseen point

62 LINE

towards which they and all lines parallel to them appear
to converge will correspond with the point we now
imagine ourselves as marking upon the picture plane to
represent the centre of vision. If lines be now drawn
radiating from this point to the edge of the picture plane
on the floor to every joint between the floor boards, we
shall have a perspective view of a floor stretching away
to the horizon, or level of sight, where all horizontal
planes vanish. The floor, of course, is interrupted by
the rectangle of the end wall, which will cut off the lines
horizontally, as also the apparently converging lines of
the ceiling and side walls in the same manner.

Any line, straight or curved, in any plane parallel with
the picture plane will be represented at its true angle;
so that all vertical lines will appear vertical, since they
are conceivably in a plane parallel to the picture.

This may be well observed if we place pictures in
rectangular frames flat upon the side and end walls.

All the uprights of all the frames will appear upright ;
but the horizontals of the frames on the side walls will
converge to the vanishing point of the walls. These
pictures will appear "foreshortened"; sometimes with
strange results in proportion as regards the content of
the pictures; whereas the horizontals of the frames and
the pictures themselves upon the end wall will appear as
they were intended to do by the artist, all the lines, no
matter in what direction, appearing correct in length
and angle.

The size of appearance in pictures on the end walls
will be conditioned by the distance of the wall from
the spectator, but the proportions will remain unaltered,
the whole picture appearing to enlarge or diminish at
once as we approach or recede.

THE PICTURE PLANE

Perspective used to convey the idea of height as seen looking upwards.

VII

FORMAL PERSPECTIVE

THERE are many treatises upon perspective, and it is
not proposed to go deeply into the matter of projection

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but to dwell particularly on the subject of " measuring
points " upon which so much of the theory and practice of

perspective depends.

64

FORMAL PERSPECTIVE 65

The most important rule in perspective — it might be
called the only rule, since from it all others may be
deduced — is that the vanishing point of any line coincides
with that point at which a parallel ray from the eye meets
the*picture plane.

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For instance, all lines at right angles to the picture
plane will appear to converge towards and vanish in the
Centre of Vision (C.V.), which is the point at which a
parallel ray from the eye pierces the picture plane.

Similarly, a line at 30°, 45°, 60°, 70° or any other angle
will appear to converge towards and vanish where a ray

66 LINE

from the eye at a corresponding angle meets the picture
plane.

To find any point C at any given distance from the
spectator the line of intersection H.L.' of a horizontal
plane with the picture plane having been drawn at the
given distance of C above or below the eye, a line is
drawn from B at the given distance right or left of the
spectator to vanish in the C.V. This line represents the
perspective of a line at right angles to the picture plane ;
consequently the point required must lie somewhere upon
this line; and the angle made by this line B.C.V., and
the line H.L.' is a perspective view of a right angle.

The required distance beyond the picture plane is
now set off upon H.L.' to right or left of B, which is the
apex of the right angle.

If a line from this point be now found that shall form
the perspective base of an isosceles triangle, one side AB
and one angle ABC.V. of which we already have, this
line will cut off at its point of intersection with the retiring
line BC.V. a distance equivalent to the side AB which lies
in the ground line, and so give the point required at C.

The rule being that the vanishing point of any line
coincides with that point at which a parallel ray from the
eye meets the picture plane, and since the base of a right-
angled isosceles triangle makes an angle of 45° with the
other two sides, the vanishing point of the base will be
at 45° from the eye.

This point is found by setting off a point V.P. upon the
horizon at a distance equal to that between the Centre of
Vision and the eye, thus forming a right-angled isosceles
triangle EYE, C.V., V.P. The point V.P. is the point at
which a horizontal ray from the eye at 450° is projected to
the picture plane ; and in which all parallel lines will vanish.

A line from this point to the point A already marked

FORMAL PERSPECTIVE

67

upon the ground at the required distance from B the apex
of the triangle, will include the base of the isosceles triangle
required, and will cut off upon the retiring line at the point
of intersection C a distance equal to the side of the

OTJB^VSE or

(CUTTING OfT B>C

triangle lying upon H.L'. The point C is the point
required to be found.

It is a convenience, when once this principle is under-
stood, to call the vanishing point of the base of such an
imaginary isosceles triangle the Measuring Point of the
given line and of all lines parallel to it.

68

LINE

Exactly the same principles are involved in the
finding of any point in any horizontal line, although
its vanishing point does not fall in the Centre of
Vision.

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HL.

The points of intersection made by the given line
with the horizon and H.L/ being found, the vanishing
point of the base of the isosceles triangle, which will be
the Measuring Point, is found by setting off along the
horizon a distance from the vanishing point of the given
line equal to its own from the eye.

FORMAL PERSPECTIVE 69

Any two lines from this Measuring Point intersecting
the given line and produced to meet H.L/ will mark
off there the true dimensions of the perspective portion
of the given line included between the points of inter-
section; or, per contra, any two lines drawn from H.L/
to the Measuring Point and intersecting the given line
will measure off upon it the perspective equivalent of the
real distance marked upon H.L/

A plane vanishes not in a point but in a line; as in
the case of the horizontal plane, which, should it be a
plane exactly opposite the eye, appears only as a line.

All planes parallel to each other appear to vanish in
the same line.

Vertical planes at right angles to the picture plane, i. e.
parallel with the line of vision, will vanish in a vertical
line drawn through the Centre of Vision.

Vertical planes at oblique angles to the picture plane
will vanish in a vertical line drawn through the horizon
at the vanishing point of their trace upon the ground.

A retiring plane whose trace upon the picture plane is
horizontal, or if upon the ground is parallel with the pic-
ture plane will vanish in a horizontal line drawn through
the point at which a parallel ray from the eye meets the
picture plane.

A retiring plane whose trace upon the ground is oblique
to the picture plane will vanish in a line drawn through
the vanishing point of the trace at the angle made by the
plane.

Vanishing points and measuring points are found upon
these vanishing lines exactly as they are found upon the
horizon.

If these few principles are once thoroughly grasped the
application of them will be found simple.

VIII

DRAWING OF SOLID OBJECTS

Solid Objects in Line.

As soon as the question of expressing the relation of
the spectator towards a given object by means of line
crops up, we have to think in terms of finite space and
concrete lines.

The force of line, therefore, should bear some relation
to the space occupied, and will naturally be greater in
proportion to the space, and particularly to the distance
from which the drawing is intended to be viewed, in order
to make it " carry " sufficiently to be readable. The best
distance to choose will generally be that at which the
objects drawn will appear to the spectator about their
natural size.

A frequent error is to imagine that a " fine " (i.e. a
thin) line has some virtue of delicacy in itself; or, on the
other hand, that a thick line has virtuous qualities of
" boldness " or " strength " qua thick line ; or, on the other
hand, being " coarse " it is inferior artistically to a " fine "
one. Nothing is farther from the truth, since these
qualities are entirely relative to the space in which the
lines are drawn.

The next point to which attention may be paid is
as to whether the outline is to be regarded as being outside
the object, or whether the middle of its thickness is to

70

DRAWING OF SOLID OBJECTS 71

represent the exact division between the object and sur-
rounding space, or if the whole line is to be regarded as

FROM " A STORY OF THE DAYS TO COME," BY H. G. WELLS

In spite of the difference of subject, the method of treatment is
much the same as in the drawing of Lady Flora, though the " noun "
line is rendered deliberately " brutal," as well as the character repre-
sented by it. (Pens — " Waverley " and Gillott's 303.)

72 LINE

belonging to the object itself. Minute as the consideration
may appear, it yet has much importance in practice.

Circumstances will decide the best employment of
line in any or all of these ways.

If it is desired to represent a white object, even though
no dark background be introduced, it will be well to let
the outline belong rather to the surrounding space than

be allowed to steal from the bulk of the object itself:
e.g. in drawing the moon, an electric lamp, an egg or a
white cast, the line should be regarded as being outside
the object. The reverse will hold good in the drawing of
a dark object upon a light ground, e.g. a nigger or a top
hat. Compare Figs. I and 5.

Where light and shade are introduced, even although the
background be left unshaded, this will in general hold good.

An error is frequently made, as in Fig. 4, in the represen-

Note that the force of line employed is stronger upon the light side

of the object, but that it belongs to the background. On the

shadow side it belongs to the object. The darkest shade falls nearest

to the main source of light.

74 LINE

tation of light objects from a lack of appreciation of these
simple principles. It being imagined that a light object
will appear light if it is represented with a light outline, a
" fine " line is set down on the light side of an object, and
a " bold " one on the shaded side. This is doubly wrong.
If a bold line be set down on the outside of a white object,
it will summarize the background as being darker than
the object, and the included space will appear more

4

A common error. Note how the dark side appears to come forward,
and the light retires.

brilliant to the mind by force of the contrast ; on the shaded
side the darkest part of the object will be that which
projects most towards the source of light (Figs. 2 and 3),
and not at the limit of the form, which will most probably
be in receipt of more or less reflection. If the outline on
the darkened side of an object be darker than the included
shade, this line will appear to come forward sharply out
of its place and prevent the " turn " of the object, by
emphasizing its edge. Many drawings on this account are

DRAWING OF SOLID OBJECTS

75

made to look thin, papery, harsh, tinny, or cast-iron,
according to the degree of the defect.

Holbein's line, where the drawing is of a head in a flat

The outline of a dark object upon a light ground belongs to the object.

light without background, belongs as nearly as possible to
the object, which is logically correct, as the retiring planes
are in receipt of less light than those at right angles to the
light. The line, therefore, belongs to the darker object.

LINE

Where light objects are represented upon a dark back-
ground these considerations become very important,
increasingly so in proportion to the smallness of the object,
If there be strong lines employed in the shading of the

background with correspondingly wide spaces of white
between the lines, it may even happen that the technique
employed to suggest an intangible darkness overpowers
the lines employed as outline to the solid, and even the
white space which they include, as in Figs. I, II and III.

Forcible feeble ; the emphasis being squandered on inessentials
while the essentials are understated.

77

Lack of unity; the essentials being suggestively treated and the
secondaries made out with precision.

78

Light air and the character of objects arrived at by suggestion.

79

Fuller range of colour employed than in No. 3, with a more " matter
of fact " result, and greater solidity.

80

DRAWING OF SOLID OBJECTS Si

Solid Objects in Silhouette.

Allied in some ways to pure outline is the expression
of form by means of pure silhouette.
- This may be summarized as the simplest way of express-
ing the bulk and shape of an object in terms of contrasting

Pure Line.

spaces of light and dark without modelling or other
qualification of the included surface.

It is obvious that, as in an unqualified outline, it will
be essential to choose that length and breadth for repre-
sentation which are most characteristic of the object when
expressed in such limited terms. Unless, for instance, a

82 LINE

man have extraordinary ears, it is likely that his profile
will yield the most characteristic result. The front and
back of the head being asymmetrical, and both of these
being shown in profile, will give greater interest than the
oval of the face viewed from the front. The slope of the

White appears to expand.

forehead, the type and proportions of nose, mouth and
chin, with the angles of the top and back of the skull, are
all expressible, while none of these can be shown either in
silhouette or outline taken from a front or back view,
characteristic though such may be in particular cases.

Light having a tendency to expand, a white silhouette
upon a black ground will appear greater in mass than

DRAWING OF SOLID OBJECTS 83

black upon white. This is not necessarily an advantage in
itself, but it should be borne in mind.

We now come to the consideration of lines used not
singly as an outline, but grouped together, either for the

A black silhouette appears smaller than a white one.

modelling or qualification of a surface, or in order to form
a tone.

Certain lines, when used to express form included
within an outline, may partake much of the quality of
this line, being frequently of an importance equal to or
greater than the contour itself. In portraiture, for
example, the spacing and drawing of the eyes, nose and

84 LINE

mouth in a front view may be made to yield more character
than the boundaries of the face itself. These lines are
indeed outlines of form — primaries, in short — and hardly
fall into the category of grouped or surface lines it is now
our purpose to discuss.

Pure line of varying thickness.

Any constructive line may be considered as a " noun "
or "substantive"; while lines used for qualifying a
surface, or for veiling it in tone, may be looked on as
" adjectives."

The simplest method of grouping or massing lines is
by arranging them as parallels in any direction. Alterna-
ting as they will with white spaces between, the spaces

DRAWING OF SOLID OBJECTS 85

take on the character of white lines, so that the black lines
and the white spaces will, if rightly proportioned, combine

Gradation by spacing
of lines of equal thick-
ness.

Gradation by lines of
unequal thickness.

Parallel lines, thick

at one end, and thin

at the other.

Gradation by radia-
tion of lines of equal
thickness ; the darkest
falls nearest the light.

Gradation by means
of radiating lines fine
at one end and thick
at the other.

Gradation by means

of radiation and

interlining.

In a large space a
new series of lines
may be an advantage.

Gradation may be
suggested or implied.

Lines too far apart
may appear as a pat-
tern rather than as a
gradation.

A SUMMARY OF THE MEANS OF GRADATION IN LINE.

to produce the effect upon the eye of the grey tone.
This tone will vary in depth in accordance with the

86

LINE

thickness of the series of black lines in proportion to the
white spaces left between.

These lines may be placed so far apart relative to their
length and the space occupied that they hardly appear as

Studies in proportion of the number and thickness of lines to a given space

and their contrasting values, in single series of parallel lines and cross-hatched.

In order to define form by contrast it is necessary to avoid confusion
between the scale of the object and the spacing of the lines.

a tone, but as individual lines, independent of each other
except in so far as their parallelism is marked. They then
take up a position which may challenge the supremacy of
the main constructive lines of the drawing, so that the

DRAWING OF SOLID OBJECTS 87

adjective is more forcible than the noun, as in a common
and senseless form of swearing, or they may appear, not
as belonging to and suggesting surface or an intangible
shade or shadow, but as something positive, either as

4

construction or pattern. A study of the thickness or
force of these lines in relation to the contour as well as in
relation to the spaces between them is important in order
to realize how easily such lines may be forced out of their
due place, and take on the character of individual primary
lines, or of a patterning upon, rather than a symbol or
qualification of, a surface, or a quiet statement of tone.
It will be seen that cross hatching may appear like wire-
netting or a cane-bottomed chair.

A good technical point to observe in the drawing of
such lines is, if they are horizontal or nearly so, to draw
the uppermost line first, and to continue the series down-
wards in order.

The reason for this is that the instrument employed
does not conceal the line or lines to which the parallel is
being drawn, so that accurate distance may be more readily
maintained throughout. Should the instrument used be
pen or brush, a second reason is, if the lines be carried out
in reverse order there is a great risk that the ink, which is
standing up wet in the last line drawn may catch the ink
at the point of the pen or brush, so that the two lines are
run together either in whole or in part, and a single thick
line results, entirely breaking up the suavity of the passage.

In the case of vertical lines, a right-handed draughtsman
should start the series with the line farthest to his left
and work regularly towards the right; a left-hander
should reverse this process.

A note may be inserted here on " left-handers." Old-
fashioned schoolmasters and schoolmistresses used to
discourage children in the use natural to them of the left

88

LINE

hand, demanding uniformity of practice. A left-handed
child would be held up to ridicule, and the hand tied to
prevent its use. In some parts of England left-handers
are called " cack-handed " — (KCIKOS, " evil-handed," I
suppose; just as " sinister " has acquired a meaning far
away from the simple " gauche "). Yet, paradoxically,
some of the most " dexterous " (literally, i.e. " right-
handed ") technicians have been left-handed. The late
F. H. Townsend, of Punch, was left-handed ; so is Joseph
, . Pennell; and doubtless

77T / '

many other well-known
artists could be named.
The prejudice in favour
of uniformity and against
left-handedness as unor-
thodox has died out to a
great extent, but it may
still linger, so that it may
be as well to state here
that the mere fact of being
left-handed is no hind-
rance to perfect technical
1 accomplishment.

When Vierge was paralysed down his right side, he had,
of course, to give up drawing for a time. All he could do
was to move his hand a little, then a little more, day
by day. " Patience," he would smile. He never drew
with his right hand again ; but in three years he was draw-
ing with the left, not only in his old style, but with all the
old technical certainty of line.

When a drawing is strictly based upon a statement
of form in light and shade it is a good general rule to

DRAWING OF SOLID OBJECTS

89

make any group of lines used for the modelling of a surface
follow the form, on some simple scheme.

The simplest plan, perhaps, is to keep them guided by the

fall of light upon the object, when they will, if the light be

not far away, fall into a rhythmic scheme of themselves.

For instance, if the lines are arranged at right angles

to the source of light, the main direction of the groups,

LINE

in spite of a great amount of modification of individual
lines, will be on a series of concentric circles, like ripples
from a stone cast into water (Figs. I and 2).

It is only the effort to state the principle in words that
has now for the first time explained to me a method
that is frequently adopted, most probably unconsciously
by many artists, myself included.

This method, if rigidly pursued, is least satisfactory

where the groups of lines
run parallel, or nearly so,
with the outline of the
form. It is then difficult
to give the sense of
" turn," and a certain
flatness or stringiness
may result.

It has its grace, but
may tend towards weak-
ness in statement of form.
It is well in such a case
to depart somewhat from
the simple scheme and to
3 lessen or increase the

angle between the groups of lines and the light rays hi such
passages, so that this parallelism with the outline may be
avoided.

(In the example given the nose and arms offer occasion
for a change of direction with advantage.)

Another scheme based upon the fall of light, which
will also bring about a rhythmic arrangement, is that in
which, instead of contradicting or intercepting the direc-
tion of the rays as in the last method, they are accepted
as a guide. The result will be that, instead of the lines

DRAWING OF SOLID OBJECTS QI

used being arcs of concentric circles, they will form parts
of the radii of a cone, the apex of which is the source of
light. Instead of the scheme of lines being upon the

principle of ripples from a stone cast into a pond, they will
partake of the effect of a bursting bomb (Figs. 3 and 4).

In this case, as in the last, it is where either the circle
or the ray of light is prevented from falling upon the object
that the line is drawn.

92 LINE

Another method, and that probably the most difficult
but most masculine, is based more strictly upon the form
itself, and demands the greatest knowledge of it. This
may perhaps best be explained by asking the reader to
imagine a series of sections taken through the form at

right angles to its length. If the direction of these sections
be drawn as they would appear in perspective, the form
is expressed with great accuracy ; but it will be seen that
nice points of treatment will occur at such passages as
the line of the jaw and the junction of the neck; at the
breasts and at the pectoralis muscle and the ankles and
such places where a sudden change of direction is involved.

DRAWING OF SOLID OBJECTS

93

Unless these complexities are artfully dealt with, the
rhythm is interrupted, and a nasty jar occurs to the
linear system. Such problems can only be dealt with as
they arise by the judgment of the artist. The simplest
solution is generally the best.

Each of these methods is logically sound ; and each may
be blended with or modified by the other, provided the
sense of unity is not destroyed ; but a drawing should not
be begun with one method
in one part and carried on
with another elsewhere in
a sort of mosaic or patch-
work quilt of techniques,
as is frequently done (Figs.
6 and 7).

The point, whether nee-
dle, pencil, pen, or brush,
being a line rather than a
tone instrument,evenwhen
light and shade or tone are
suggested by it, allafastidi-
ous spectator's pleasure in a drawing may be destroyed by a
wrong use of direction in a space of modelling, no matter
how fine the lines composing it may be, or how pretty
the general effect. Some silver points may be remembered
very popular and fashionable in their day, which, in spite
of the gossamer delicacy of the medium itself and an
almost sugary sweetness of subject, were yet ugly in every
way. The apparent sensitiveness of the artist, on a close
view resolved itself into a brutality of handling of line
that no lightness of tone could conceal from a lover of
form and rhythm. Thinking of these recalls a discussion

94

LINE

between John Morley and Gladstone in the House of
Commons as to who was the ugliest man on the benches
opposite. John Morley picked his man, and Gladstone,

while admitting the ugliness, yet objected that if enlarged
to colossal size, a certain dignity and grandeur would
result ; " but look at " he said, " and imagine him as a

DRAWING OF SOLID OBJECTS 95

Colossus in size. Nothing could conceal the smallness
and meanness of the man ; it would only be made the more
apparent the more he were to be enlarged."

If the silver points mentioned had been intensified
and enlarged, the same result would have happened to
them — the charm dependent on the medium itself, and the
prettiness so largely a result of the smallness of scale,
would have vanished, and the hard, conflicting lines,
which broke step in every direction, would have appeared
in all their anarchy.

The question is often asked whether cross-hatching
should be employed in drawing or not, as though there
were virtue or the opposite in the mere employment of it
regardless of all considerations of how and when and where.

It is frequently of great value where two opposing
forces of line meet, as by its means a neutral space is
established, where the lines may either die away, or from
which the more powerful may emerge triumphant. The
greatest neutrality is arrived at where lines of equal
strength cross each other at right angles, or in a per-
spective of right angles upon a given surface.

Except as the rhythmic solution of these forces of line
or for the establishment of a neutral tone, it is better
avoided, it then having no value, unless as a correction of
an error in tone, when, of course, it stands as a confession
of underlying weakness.

This is probably the reason why cross-hatching, unless
as the resolution of opposing forces of line, becomes
increasingly unpleasant the more elongated the included
white " diamond " becomes, as the weakness of intention
in the original lines is made more manifest.

IX

SOLID OBJECTS IN SHADE AND SHADOW

IT is essential in discussing the effects of light upon
solid objects, to form a clear conception of what is shade
and what is shadow. For instance, the side of the moon
away from the sun is not in shadow, it is in shade. If,
however, the earth comes between the sun and the moon,
the earth casts not a shade, but a shadow, upon the
moon.

Reflected light is sometimes seen when the phenomenon
mentioned in the ballad of Sir Patrick Spens, " the young
moon with the old moon in its arms," appears; when, in
addition to the powerful light reflected direct from the
sun, indirect sun rays are projected to the shaded side
after first striking the earth. In this case the moon does
not appear simply as a flat disc or pale wafer stuck upon
the sky, but we see and realize its existence as a sphere
modelled in relief and swimming as a solid in the surround-
ing vague of space.

Outline being a convention or symbol by which the
limit of an object is stated upon a comparatively flat
surface, the included space rather than the line corre-
sponds with the thing represented; and it might seem a
hopeless task to endeavour to convey the most distant
suggestion either of shade or shadow by means of line
or lines.

Nevertheless, the convention of such expression has
become so common that its conventionality has been

96

SOLID OBJECTS IN SHADE AND SHADOW 97

almost entirely overlooked, and it is now accepted as some-
thing entirely in the normal order of Nature and Art.

Drawing by forcible division into light and shade, minor qualifications
being almost disregarded (" Waverley" pen).

Artists themselves have done a great deal towards
concealing the convention of line, by reducing the lines

LINE

Forcible contrasts of tone and local colour. A free method admitting

considerable margin for suggestion of surface characteristics.

(" Waverley " and Gillott's 303 pens.)

to such a fineness that, to an uninquiring eye, the result
becomes as nearly as possible a tone rather than a series
of lines. Even the line is sometimes broken up into a

SOLID OBJECTS IN SHADE AND SHADOW 99

series of dots, so that the statement is one of surface
rather than of form, and has no more construction, back-
bone, or force than a piece of shortbread.

Dismissing arbitrary and ill-considered schemes, even
those which fumble sincerely towards the light, as well as
those which base themselves upon some fad or prejudice,
we find two prime factors to be examined in the
endeavour to discover what law may underlie any satis-
factory scheme for the suggestion of light and shade, or
the modelling of the space included by an outline.
These two factors are, first, the source of light, and
second, the form of the object upon which it falls.

The drawing should embody the expression of the
relation of these two factors, in such a manner as to convey
it to the mind in the terms of the medium used, in full
and unconcealed acceptance of the limitations this
medium imposes and in the knowledge that, if properly
employed, the limitations may even be turned to \
advantage.

Unpromising as line at first sight appears for the purpose,
it can be shown that it may be made to display form in
some ways more clearly and forcibly to the mind than
any other medium, and that the display, if made accord-
ing to logical rules, will lead to a rhythmic statement,
containing certain elements almost necessarily beautiful.

To begin with the representation of a primary source
of light, let it be said at once that this is impossible by
the ordinary means employed by the artist, since white
is the highest light he has at command and black the
deepest dark. Primary light can be symbolized, but
not represented. Even a candle or rushlight is beyond
representation.

TOO

LINE

The employment of transparencies or reflecting sur-
faces does not come into our consideration of artistic
means at the moment — artistic and legitimate, or vulgar,
tricky and meretricious as they may be, according to the
taste dictating their right or mistaken employment.
The gilded background of a Fra Angelico presentation

The commonest symbol employed for a direct source of light
is that of radiation.

of Heaven to express a brilliance and a glory beyond the
scope of dull pigment, and the staining of glass to temper
the heat or light of the sun, or to add a colour to qualify
the greyness of a cathedral, are both legitimate and
beautiful in their place, and pleasanter to think of than
the vulgar uses of similar means which need not be
specified beyond the frosting of Christmas cards.

White and black being taken as our brightest and

SOLID OBJECTS IN SHADE AND SHADOW IOI

darkest, a further consideration comes in as to absolute
qualities. In order to see even the whiteness of this
page, light is necessary. You cannot see the white in
the dark, all becomes equally black with the type.
Strictly speaking you do not then see the black, since it

Even the dimmest direct light can only be symbolically expressed.

is swallowed in the darkness, and becomes as indis-
tinguishable as a cupful of water poured into the sea.
In order to see the black, or rather to distinguish it from
white, a certain amount of light is necessary; but if the
light should be too fierce the black becomes invisible;
and just as the white became invisible in the darkness,
so the black is swallowed up in light.

For our optical comprehension a tempered light is

IO2 LINE

necessary, that shall strike a mean by which the black
and the white are as nearly as possible equally visible to
the eye. Simple truism as such a proposition may seem,
the overlooking of it has led to many misguided efforts
on the part of artists to overstep the limits of the con-
ventions of their metier, so that they have been misled

Unresolved oppositions of line leading to confusion.

into the construction of many a futile little tower of
Babel or sand castle that has perished.

It may be said once for all that the effort to match
sunlight at one end of the scale, or black in shadow at
the other upon a flat surface is outside the scope of Art ;
that any success in this direction can only be partial, and
can act but as a lure and a temptation.

These, full sunlight and absolute darkness, may be
suggested, but cannot be represented.

SOLID OBJECTS IN SHADE AND SHADOW 103

Let us bring this matter to a concrete test. Imagine
an artist who proposes to paint a realistic portrait of
of a man in evening dress, posed in a strong light, which
falls full upon his shirt-front, collar, diamond stud and
black coat.

An inclusive scheme of contrast for a multiplicity of lights.

It will readily be granted that since the diamond stud
reflects the primary source of light, only a little lower in
intensity, it is beyond the scope of a dead white and
unreflecting pigment to express. To prove this, if proof
be necessary, the light has only to be compared with
the white of the shirt-front at right angles to the light
which, if the sitter be in the " immaculate evening
dress " of the novelist, will be white raised to the nth

104 LINE

power. If the surface of the shirt-front be polished and
so reflect the source of light, no matter how much lower
in brilliance than the diamond, even this will be beyond
the scope of representation by the painter's non-reflecting
pigment.

Another inclusive scheme for a multiplicity of lights by
treating the group as a unit.

So far so good, as to the lights; an average will have
to be struck, and the consent of the spectator begged to
allow the diamond and the reflection on the shirt-front
to be lower in tone than they appear in nature. If their
relative brilliance is to be insisted upon, the shirt in

SOLID OBJECTS IN SHADE AND SHADOW 105

general will have to be put down in tone, to the discredit
of its immaculate condition ; but let that pass, while we
go on to the consideration of the representation of the
black coat.

Surely this is within the scope of paint ? Not only not
more so than the white shirt-front, even when propor-
tioned to the light of the diamond, but still less.

The black coat itself is as black as can be; but its
wearer is seated in a strong light, throwing deep shades
and shadows in the folds of the coat. The painter has
nothing beyond black to represent the darkest of these
shades and shadows, and must modify his pigment to
represent the coat where light falls upon it, in accordance
with whatever key he has set up for himself to work by.
If he has much reduced the white of the shirt in order to
emphasize the brilliance of the diamond, his range of
contrast between the deep shadows and the light upon the
coat is already much restricted. But again, let that pass.

Let the sitter leave the throne; and now imagine the
picture placed at right angles upon the throne which
the sitter has just left, and at right angles to the same
source of light. Being upon the flat, the black which
stood for the deepest shadows in the coat will be in receipt
of light, equally with the representation of the shirt-front
and the diamond stud. The whole flat surface will throw
back light, except that it is conditioned by the absorbence
or non-absorbence of the pigment composing its patches
of local colour and tone.

Now what happens? The blackest shadow in the
painted coat will appear no lower in tone than did the
coat where it was in receipt of light at the same angle as
the picture now receives it.

The middle tones may be true; but above and below

106 LIXE

these tones it will be seen that representation is outside
the capacity of pigment on a flat surface.

If the light be turned up to enhance the light passages
of the picture, by so much also the deep shadows are
weakened; and if the light be turned down, by so much
the .brilliance of the diamond and the laundry work will
be diminished in the picture.

It is, of course, possible by forcing the note to paint
a picture for a given situation as regards lighting con-
ditions that shall enable the painter, by a careful study
of these, to obtain a highly realistic effect, such as may
be seen in the Wiertz Museum in Brussels, where the
spectator looks as through a keyhole into a kind of
peepshow; but away from such exceptional conditions
such work will almost certainly appear false.

All such methods belong to the showman and the
penny gaff, and have little to do with the fine arts; and
unless he is professedly cynical or jesting in their employ-
ment, the artist can blame no one but himself if his
taste is discredited as a result.

A picture or drawing that is not primarily for a specified
purpose, when it should be conditioned by its purpose
and situation, as a wall decoration, or a book illustration,
cannot lay down its own terms of lighting or other cir-
cumstance, but must be calculated for average conditions ;
'the owner can hardly be expected to build a special cup-
board with lighting artfully arranged for every picture, nor
to squint through the keyhole to enjoy it, nor expect his
guests to line up in a queue to take their turns to admire.

Failing such conditions the artist should confine
himself within the limits and conventions of his art;
and given such conditions, let him — well ? what ? —
turn away from them and all such clap-trap.

SOLID OBJECTS IN SHADE AND SHADOW IO/

It may be laid down as an axiom that light, unless
it fall inside the limits of black and white, cannot be
represented, but only suggested. If representation be
attempted, the truth of the representation will be falsified
as soon as the conditions under which the representation
appears true are altered. Further, that unless for such
fixed conditions, it is an error of taste or judgment, or
both, to attempt such realism of effect, even should it
lie inside the scope of the medium employed. Relative
truth is another matter, and the truth to be expressed
should be selected according to the method employed.
If this be granted of such means as oil paint, which is the
most inclusive of all media, it will more readily be granted
of line, which is the most selective and exclusive.

Line is the expression of limit and direction, rather
than of subtleties of gradation of tone or colour.

Form is displayed first by the space it occupies, and
second by its interception of light.

The limit of form, or outline, is therefore the first
essential. The direction of light in relation to it is the
second.

In expression of light and shade the first thing to
establish is the division between the two.

This will be most forcible where the rays from the main
source of light become tangential to the object illuminated.

The strongest light upon any surface other than a
polished or reflecting one will be where the surface most
directly fronts the rays. If this surface be at right
angles to the light, it will intercept its rays with the
fullest effect. The nearer it approaches the right angle,
the lighter it will be, and the nearer the surface approaches
the parallel to the rays, the darker it will appear.

An object set up in gloomy space in which there are no

108 LINE

reflections, and illuminated only by a single appreciable
light, will be revealed to the sight only by that part which
is in receipt of direct light rays, and will be entirely
obscured at and beyond those points where the rays
become tangential to the object.

This is the most familiar appearance of the moon, which
presents a good example of a dull object in receipt of
light from another source. If the moon had a polished
surface like a billiard ball or a bald head, we should
receive light from it in quite a different manner.

If the light be very powerful (since we have already
observed that qualifications by local colour, even as far
apart as black and white, may be entirely swallowed up
so far as our power of vision goes either by light or by
darkness), gradation becomes negligible, and we have
the moon presented as a flat wafer when at the full,
declining through its gibbous phase to half, and then
hollowed out until only a thin rim of light shows, in
accordance with our own relation to the sun and moon.
The more nearly we are between the pair the fuller the
moon appears. The nearer the moon is between us and
the sun the finer the illuminated rim, and the greater the
amount in shade.

A billiard-player among the stars would have his game
enormously simplified and made easier for a cannon off
the earth or the moon into the sun by aiming his cue at the
dividing line of light and shade.

Unless the light, however, be so powerful as to flatten
out these differences to the eye to the infinitely minute,
and so not to be discriminated except by the mathe-
matician or by mechanical or chemical aid, another
problem arises, concerned with the relative positions of
the source of light and the object which it illuminates.

SOLID OBJECTS IN SHADE AND SHADOW

This is the distance between the two, which may be
expressed as the distance at which a ray of light becomes
extinguished or swallowed up by surrounding space so
far as the eye can discern, the eye being, for purposes of
art, the deciding judge.

An object will appear higher in relief the more nearly
it is approached towards a light strong enough to reveal
the surfaces at or nearly approaching a right angle to it,
but so declining in power as not appreciably to affect
surfaces approaching parallelism with its rays.

In the case of the sun these rays may be said for the
practical purposes of the artist to be parallel in direction
and infinite in length. Of terrestrial illuminants the
nearest approach to the sun is that concentrated by a
lens into the searchlights we became so familiar with
during the war. Even the headlights of a motor car
will, in the surrounding darkness, reveal a suddenly
emerging face as though it were cut in paper, and as
flat to the eye as the moon, all gradation being obliterated
by the force of light upon every plane presented to its
rays, any reflection being negligible. The utmost
appearance of relief will be obtained by a single light of
low power, like a candle, falling upon an object in a space
where there is nothing to yield appreciable reflections,
so that while all surfaces at right angles to the light will
be illuminated, the power of the light being limited, the
force of the illumination will be appreciably less the
greater the distance of the surface from the source of
light ; and even the slightest divergence of the form from
a right angle to the light becomes obvious to the eye by
its greater relative darkness.

We thus arrive at two principles by which light may
be presented to the mind in terms of line.

IIO LINE

The first of these principles is the direction of the rays.

The second principle is their length, or effective force.

In both of these principles " infinity " is taken as
represented by those tones or colours beyond which
differences become inappreciable to vision — the colour
" vanishing points " of black and white, equivalent to
vanishing points and lines in linear perspective.

The direction of the rays is readily expressible by
means of lines forming a cone or pencil of which the
source of light is the apex.

Their effective force in space may be expressed by a
series of concentric circles struck from the point of light,
becoming relatively closer together as the circumferences
increase, to the infinity or vanishing tone where blackness
or ultimate dark sets in, and becoming wider apart
towards the infinity or vanishing point of whiteness or
ultimate expression of light.

But if the rays be intercepted by an opaque object,
before they are exhausted or dissipated by distance from
their source, darkness is the result either in the form of
shade or shadow. The shadow will be broad or narrow
in proportion as the angle of the surface approaches a
right angle with the source of light, and so intercepts
many of the rays, or approaches the parallel, and so
intercepts but few. If the rays be very powerful and
the object absorbent of light, as in the case of the sun
shining upon the moon, gradation of light and shade may
be so reduced as to become negligible, the circular rather
than the spherical character of the moon being made
apparent to our eyes.

X

MODELLING OF SOLID OBJECTS

IT is important to realize the great part that a sym-
pathetic ending to every line plays in dealing with
modifications of curved surfaces. Although these endings
are more conspicuous on the lighted side of an object,

i. Modelling by sec-
tions of form 2.

2. By gradations of
straight lines.

3. By the fall of
light.

they will, if too abrupt in the shade or shadow, though
felt rather than seen, destroy the luminosity and beauty
of any passage in which they occur.

It is sometimes feasible to break down such an abrupt-
ness of transition by the use of dots in addition to lines,

112

LINE

as Vandyck, Legros and many other etchers have done.
But in spite of such good authority it is a device to be
sparingly employed. The weaker the draughtsman the
more danger there is in the practice, as the temptation
will be more and more towards drawing by surface rather

Methods of modelling dictated by the character of objects.

than by construction, ending possibly by basing the
drawing entirely upon such means, like Bartolozzi, who,
little as he was, was the greatest of all stipplers — a kind
of human air-brush, who as such still occupies a certain
order in the abyss.

Such use as Vandyck and the master draughtsmen have
made of these abbreviated lines and dots has always
been subsidiary to that of line.

In drawing with the pen, if a flexible one be employed,

i . Modelling by lines across the direction
of the light rays ;

2. by horizontal sections of
form;

3. by lines parallel with the rays of light ; 4. by vertical sections of form.

SIMPLE METHODS OF MODELLING OF SOLIDS.
I 113

LINE

the stroke should be begun in the air before the pen is
brought into contact with the paper. This should be at
an acute angle. When the thick part of the line is

Pure line of almost even thickness, slightly modified by the use

of dots. Methodical and stylistic — tending to be cold, hard and

unsympathetic. (Gillott's 303 pen.)

complete, the pen should be raised gradually, thus relaxing
whatever pressure is employed as it approaches the end
of the stroke, so that the stroke is continued in the air,

MODELLING OF SOLID OBJECTS 115

the pen not being allowed to rest at the end of the line
it leaves.

If a quill, reed, or J pen be used, it should be so held

Drawing by patches of simplified tone, with suggestion of local
colour. (" Waverley " pen.)

that the edge and not the flat is addressed to the paper
to begin and end the line, should it be desired to gradate
both ends, the pen being turned so that the flat is pre-
sented to the paper only in the middle of the stroke.

n6

LINE

Unless the pen is handled in such a way a blob will form
at the end of the line, and gradation be destroyed. In
the management of a large patch of shadow, attention

Inclusive method in which local colour and texture are freely

introduced, so that considerable realism is possible.

(" Waverley " and Gillott's 303 pens.)

to this point is as important as the even laying of the
lines, otherwise an ugly and obstreperous joint may
appear which will destroy all the charm and sense of

LOCAL COLOUR AND SURFACE 117

mystery. The shadow will take on the character of a
positive object, like a black but indeterminate something
floating about in space, instead of standing for a negation,
an intangible gloom, or the qualification by tone of some
object partially lost in darkness.

Local Colour and Surface

Hitherto attention has been paid only to individual
forms as expressed by line and light and shade.

It may be as well to consider at this point the intro-
duction of a suggestion of " local colour," as the colour
belonging to individual objects is called, apart from how
the form itself is affected by light ; as a red coat, a blue
skirt, a yellow jacket, a green tree, an orange kerchief,
a purple anemone, the brown earth, a grey sky. The
colour of light itself varies so greatly that an orange
sunset, for instance, by powerfully modifying all those
objects upon which it falls, brings them into unity or
harmonious relation one to the other, no matter how
harsh their juxtaposition might be in a colourless light.
This is not our immediate concern, but is stated in order

Il8 LINE

to emphasize what is meant by " local colour " strictly
understood.

In line drawing the limitations of the medium are such
that it is generally the wisest course to restrict the effort
at discrimination of local colour to a few simple tones,
selecting only the most obvious, rather than attempting
the whole range.

Where great subtlety in this direction is aimed at, the
brilliance and vivacity of effect generally suffers, and
the loss will probably be greater than the gain. Minor
half-tones and the delicate complexion of objects should
be dismissed as not proper to the genius of the medium,
which deals primarily in form as expressed in line,
emphasized by light and shade.

All very light tones should be ruthlessly dismissed,
though a statement of the form of a white object should
not be shirked on the score of the blackness of the line
necessary to express it.

The use of local colour is at times essential to proper ex-
pression no matter how restricted the means used may be.

The difference at a first glance between an Englishman
and an African is one of colour rather than of form;
and a black silhouette would give a closer idea of a nigger
to a person who had never seen one, than would a simple
outline upon white paper.

If, then, we imagine an outline characteristic of a
negro so far as form is concerned, filled in with black
instead of the practice hitherto followed of qualifying
the white included space with black lines, and so revealing
the form by drawing the essential shades and shadows,
we may reverse the process and draw the essential lights
upon a dark ground.

Just as we disregarded those minor light tones when

LOCAL COLOUR AND SURFACE

working in black on white, leaving them as undisturbed
white, so we may disregard the minor differences of dark-

" Local colour " is sometimes almost as essential as form.

ness, leaving them undisturbed black, with the result
that darkness preponderates in our statement.

I have spoken of " imagining " a silhouette, into which

120

LINE

modelling may be introduced and carried out by means
of white lines, as a wood-engraver like Bewick would do.
This method may be actually followed by the artist by
means of an opaque white upon the prepared black
surface, and such a method has its advantages; but in
practice it is more usual to build up the requisite darkness
by means of black lines and masses and to leave the

necessary whites.

Unity of treatment
is thus preserved; but
a considerable danger
lies in timidity of state-
ment. Black should
bear roughly the same
proportion to the mass
as does white in the
drawing of a light ob-
ject, and in order to
achieve this proportion
considerable boldness of
handling is necessary.
If it is borne in mind

case that the
be reyealed by

the lights rather than by the shadows, and that these
lights should be as carefully selected and restricted as
the black of an ordinary drawing, well and good, and all
is plain sailing.

The fall of light upon dark objects is more obviously
modified for the draughtsman by the character of the
surface than upon light ones, since, if the surface be a
polished one, reflections, though not actually brighter
than upon a similar light surface, may be made to appear
so by force of contrast.

Local colour is sometimes necessary for in this
discriminating purposes. form

LOCAL COLOUR AND SURFACE

121

In the case of a white glazed jug the artist in line
would not generally attempt to express the difference
between the white mass and the brilliant reflection, since
in order to discriminate the white on white it would be
necessary to sacrifice the general effect to the high light
by drawing the jug grey, but in the case of a black object
this does not hold good.

An admirable example of the effect of light upon dark
objects is provided by the comparison of an ordinary silk

Light upon dull and shiny objects compared.

hat with a shiny surface with a dull opera hat, placed
side by side in similar positions.

The French have nicknamed the one huit reflets ; and
I have heard it said that the chief claim to immortality

of the Prince de S , the smartest man in Paris, lay

in the fact that he was so well groomed and slick that
his topper had nine.

The nickname is a good one.

Though the outlines of the two hats may closely
resemble each other, and while both hats are black, their
characters would hardly be expressed without cognizance

122

LINE

being taken of the difference of effect of light upon them,
for while one absorbs, the other reflects it.

In one case the direction of the fall of light is all-
important and reflection counts for next to nothing, so
that in the ordinary process of strict selection and
simplification it may be almost or quite disregarded. In
the other the surface acts as a mirror, so that the direct
fall of light from the main source may, and most often
does, become secondary to the reflections. This highest
light will be not where the ray is intercepted by the surface

Light on absorbent and reflecting surfaces compared.

of the hat, but at that point where a line from the eye
to the surface will make an equal angle with the ray;
that is, at the point at which a billiard-player would aim
if he wished to cannon off the hat into the source of light.
The brightest light indeed may fall not on the most
illuminated side of the hat at all, but should there be a
distant light insufficient even to make an appreciable
effect upon the shaded side of the opera hat, may yield
by reason of the angle formed between it, the silk hat and
the eye, so brilliant a reflection upon the shiny silk as to

LOCAL COLOUR AND SURFACE 123

appear almost to upset the laws of the fall of direct
light.

For instance, should the main light be diffused, as
from a north window, and a candle be placed so as to
be reflected in the silk hat, yet at such a distance as
hardly to affect the opera hat, the highest light may be
that of the candle reflected in the
silk hat.

In the case of the opera hat
the light will remain unaffected by
the position of the spectator rela-
tive to it; but with every move-
ment of the spectator relative to the
silk hat, the angle of incidence and
reflection will be changed, and every
light will appear reflected from
another part of the shiny surface.

These examples are chosen as affording typical examples
of the fall of light ; and the same effect will appear upon
any dark shiny object, whether it be the reflection of a
window upon a black bottle, or the sunlight upon the
back of a wet nigger.

XI

EXPRESSION OF SOLIDS IN RELATION TO ONE ANOTHER —
AERIAL PERSPECTIVE

EVEN in such cases as portraiture, where it is the
desire of the artist to concentrate all attention upon a
single object or person, so that he usually introduces
only such background and accessories as will enhance or
intensify the interest of the beholder upon the main
subject, the question of relation of objects one to another
will generally arise.

A drawing or picture is frequently admirably drawn
and arranged and yet fails as a whole from a lack of
proper understanding of the principles by which a
proper relation is maintained between the component
parts.

This lack of unity will generally be owing to incon-
sistency of lighting, to errors of linear perspective and
proportion, a multiplication of focal points for the eye,
or a disregard for the effects of atmosphere.

Most of these subjects have already been touched upon ;
but the importance of aerial perspective yet remains to
be dealt with.

In a grey and moist climate like that of England aerial
perspective is generally more marked than in clear, dry
and sunny countries.

An eye accustomed to gauging distance in England
with great accuracy may yet be wildly astray in a clear
air, as our riflemen found in South Africa, most of whom

124

EXPRESSION OF SOLIDS IN RELATION TO ONE ANOTHER 125

began by snicking their sights short by hundreds of
yards.

The old-fashioned " London particular," the " pea-
souper," has of late years become of increasing rarity,
and many young people cannot realize what they were
like, and will hardly believe quite true tales of them.
They are probably destined to become a mere discredited
legend. French artists like Adrien Marie, Renouard
and Morel, when they came over to draw for the
Graphic, used to become wildly excited over their first
experience of fog and the dramatic effects to be
observed. In extreme cases these fogs involved a nega-
tion of all form, swallowing it entirely in gloom, and
became a subject for the writer rather than for the
painter or draughtsman, who deals in visibilities.

In the 'eighties and 'nineties the Londoner, from Queen
Victoria to the office boy, was reduced by the fog to the
state of the metaphysician, so vividly compared to a
" nigger in a dark room searching for a black hat that
isn't there."

Between the density of the " London particular "
which obliterated everything and the clear dry air of
India and the veldt in which, as far as the eye can see,
everything is sharp and distinct, lies all the range of
atmospheric effect.

My friend A. S. Hartrick made a most illuminating
observation to me on his return from the Mediterranean
to London, saying that whereas in our dark climate
detail of modelling and local colour were only properly
seen in sunlight, in the fierce sunlight of Algiers detail
was almost flattened out, and the eye could only properly
appreciate it in the shade.

The enchantment that distance is said to lend to the

126 LINE

view arises not only from the diminished scale of its
appearance, but from the simplifying and harmonizing
effect of the veil of atmosphere which part reveals and
part conceals it.

The harmonizing cause is not only that the sharpness
of local colour seen through a haze is reduced, but that
the colour of the atmosphere itself qualifies equally all
colours seen through it, so reducing the contrast still
further.

The magic of these colour harmonies and gradations is
for the painter alone, being outside the scope of line to
do more than suggest, and that by some form of associa-
tion rather than representation. The draughtsman's
concern is more often with the revelation of form than
with its concealment; but atmosphere comes to his aid
by helping him by a natural process to discriminate the
relative projection of objects in relation to his point of
view.

If equal emphasis be given to the statement of every
object in a composition, the result must be a certain
flatness out of which nothing projects and beyond which
nothing recedes ; and we get a pattern, or at the utmost
a " high relief " drawing, in which objects, though solid,
appear to be very nearly, if not quite, in one plane.

If a drawing be made in correct linear perspective with
equal power of line and mass throughout, there will be
considerable difficulty in detaching or discriminating one
form from another, particularly where they are complex
and fall close together upon the picture plane, although
one be much more distant than the other.

While an appreciable mist will diminish the power of
a direct light seen through it, the light will be visible at
a greater distance than a solid object.

EXPRESSION OF SOLIDS IN RELATION TO ONE ANOTHER 127

To a spectator standing under a lamp a person emerging
from fog will be visible by the light falling upon him
before the shadows appear, all these being still veiled by
the luminous fog.

Dark is more affected by mist than light; this means
that while light may be reduced in force, darkness is even
more rapidly lightened, and this in proportion to the
density of the mist.

At a certain point an average is struck between the
two forces; but darkness is sooner swallowed up than is
light. If this were not the case we should see the whole
of the moon at all times of its visibility, and not only
the illuminated part ; but the shaded part does not show as
darker than the sky, it is swallowed up by the semi-opacity
of the atmosphere, no matter how clear this may be.

The principle that emerges for the artist is that in
aerial perspective the lights are less affected than the
darks. If, therefore, a continually reduced stress be laid
upon the shadows and local colour in proportion to the
distance from the spectator, a perfectly natural means
will be followed by him. As light itself is farther beyond
the scope of the means he employs in representation, the
point is sooner reached beyond which discrimination is
either possible or necessary to his means; and the
diminishing of light by mist may be most frequently
disregarded.

Few objects, in fact, in the sense we are considering
are " lighter than air."

It is such considerations as these that have led to the
old rule of thumb for landscape drawing, which lays down
that " black comes forward, and light retires."

Upon this rule is based the practice of many artists by
which foreground objects are laid in with a powerful

128

LINE

Drawn with very flexible pen yielding great range of thickness of
line from exceedingly fine to very broad : such a method is capable
of sparkling vivacity of effect, as well as the expression of solidity,
texture, local colour and relative distance of objects. The rule of thumb
is that black comes forward and light retires. (Brandaeur 518 pen.)

line, diminishing in force for the farther objects in
proportion to their distance.

EXPRESSION OF SOLIDS IN RELATION TO ONE ANOTHER I2Q

Forain's and Phil May's method of establishing the
relations of objects is based almost entirely upon this use
of line of varying strength according to distance.

Etchers of landscape subjects act largely upon this
principle, giving a short biting to their distances, with
deeper and longer bitings in proportion to the nearness
of objects to the eye.

At close quarters, as, for instance, in an ordinary room
(unless it be a den of smokers !), aerial perspective may
be almost absent at most times. Not, of course, that
there is no air in them, but that the distances are so
small and the veil of atmosphere so thin as to be almost
negligible — yet the principle holds good in practice, fre-
quently as the only means whereby relative projections
can be simply expressed.

In long galleries with side windows it is sufficiently
obvious, where the motes are dancing in a shaft of light
so powerful that a figure beyond may be almost hidden
by it. But here another factor besides aerial perspective
comes into play.

This factor is the force of the illuminating power, and
while much wrapped up with the study of aerial perspec-
tive, it should not be confused with it.

A room in daylight may be quite a light room although
there is no sunlight in it, all the light being reflected
either from the sky, the ground and such surrounding
objects as walls or trees, and again reflected with varying
power and angles by the walls and objects in the room.

In this process subtraction of force goes on at every
reflection, more and more light being absorbed, till a
point of apparent inertia is arrived at, and reflection is
lost, at least to sense.

The figure beyond this shaft of light is illuminated

130 LINE

only in this secondary manner, and neither the light nor
the shadow upon a form so illuminated will have either

Force of direct light suggested by enlargement, and the unity of

lighting effect, maintained by the scheme of radiating line adopted.

The light is enhanced by strong contrast with the bottle.

the force or the sharpness of definition of those thrown
by the direct light.

Direct artificial light acts much like sunlight, but the

EXPRESSION OF SOLIDS IN RELATION TO ONE ANOTHER 13!

rays of the sun coming from so great a distance as to
be practically parallel, shadows thrown by it do not
radiate as do those of artificial light. This is always
within measurable distance, so forming the apex of a
pencil or cone of rays tangential to the object; which
tangents will outline the shadow projected upon the
nearest obstruction to them.

Besides this, the power of sun-rays falling unobstructed
or unfiltered upon an object is undiminished, regardless
of terrestrial distances, while the effective range of all
ordinary artificial lights is very limited. The power of
the old rushlight was only sufficient to " make darkness
visible." The rays of a single candle may hardly pene-
trate to the four corners of a little room. In the case
of any but the most brilliant artificial light objects are
appreciably less illuminated, even at very close range, if
the candle power be low, in proportion to the distance
of their removal from the source of light.

If, then, there be but a single source of light, and this of
insufficient power to set up reflections from surrounding
objects, only such form will be revealed as comes within
the effective range of its rays.

The cone or pencil of the rays tangential to the object
illuminated will form a wider angle the nearer the object
is approached to the light, and the object will throw a
wider shadow. Every child who has made shadow
pictures of rabbits, swans and negroes upon a wall knows
that the rabbits, swans and negroes become larger and
less distinct the nearer the hands are brought to the
candle, but the smaller and more distinct the nearer the
hands are brought to the wall.

Here two principles are involved. The penumbra of
the hand increases as the hand approaches the candle,

132 LINE

and the base of the pencil of rays is increased, because
the rays spread not from a single point only but from a
space of light. Should the candle gutter and make a tall
flame, the penumbra will be still further enlarged, rays
from the top and bottom of the flame getting upwards
and downwards to the wall tangential to the hand from
many more points, so that an increasing angle of penumbra
is formed. Should the flame be very tall and the hand
very small, no part of the wall may be absolutely deprived
of light-. As the hand is approached to the wall, not
only does the angle of the penumbra so diminish as to
become negligible, the edge of shadow being hardly
gradated at all, but the possibility of reflection is more
and more shut off from whatever sources may chance,
and the depth of the shadow is therefore much increased.

XII

SHADOWS, REFLECTIONS AND AERIAL PERSPECTIVE

A CURIOUS effect may frequently be observed on almost
any autumn morning in which a low mist lies hovering
over the water of a lake or river, yet I have never seen
it remarked upon, though it has in it all the elements
of enchantment. Mr. De La Mare should have remarked
and written of it, as it is peculiarly " a subject made to his
hand," as well as to his name ; nor have I seen it painted,
though it must have been familiar to Corot in all its charm.

The layer of mist shuts out all but the nearest objects
on a level with the spectator's eye in every direction, so
that little but the ground he walks on and the sky imme-
diately above his head are visible to him, though he may
be conscious of the shining of a pale sun, so that he walks
upon an almost obliterated earth with his head in a cloud
of mother-o'-pearl.

Nothing is startling in such an atmosphere, so that to
see with wide-awake morning eyes a world turned upside
down, and almost to tread off solid earth into the green
tree-tops, seems at the moment in so hushed and strange
a world like a familiar experience, with all the familiarity
of a dream.

Only with the increase in the power of the sun the mist
disperses and things gradually resume their normal appear-
ance. It seems then less like sacrilege to examine into
corners in order rudely to explain mysteries by solid
matters of fact and cool reason.

133

134 LINE

It is indeed only by understanding that the artist can
recreate the enchantment at will. The particular enchant-
ment is all a matter of reflection. The mist lies slightly
above the level of the water, leaving the surface clear.
While horizontally it is too thick and opaque for the eye to
penetrate to the far side of the lake, vertically it is but a
thin sheet, and the reflections of the tree-tops are most
vivid at the spectator's foot, while the trees themselves
are entirely cut off from vision by the horizontal mist.

A common error is to confuse " shadows " and " reflec-
tions " — a notorious example being in the misnamed
fable of the dog and his shadow. A shadow is caused by
the obstruction of light rays from falling upon any object
regardless of the position of the spectator to it.

On the other hand, a " reflection " proper, in the sense
of an image projected upon a polished surface of any kind
which then acts as a mirror, varies with the position of
the spectator in relation to the object reflected, and the
angle which the polished surface makes between the two.

Two or more spectators will see the same shadow, but
no two persons see exactly the same reflection. It is
true that the reflection will appear much the same to per-
sons standing close together; but should they stand far
apart it will be different parts of the object which they
will see reflected, regardless of whether it is the illuminated
or shaded side. In the case of the shadow of an object it
is only the perspective of the shadow that will be affected
by a change of position on the part of the spectator.

Yet there is a pretty phenomenon which might be
thought to make an exception to this rule.

Any one who has walked up Regent Street or along
Oxford Street on a sunny day may have noticed by the

SHADOWS, REFLECTIONS AND AERIAL PERSPECTIVE 135

side of those shops which advertise their names or their
goods in gilded lettering how the lettering is reflected in
reverse upon the pavement. This reflection does not
move with the movement of the spectator, only its
perspective being changed according to the changed
relation.

It will be observed in such cases that the sun is not
flashed 'into the eye of the spectator from the illuminated
surface, and that in order to see the direct reflection
of the sun it would be necessary to intercept the light
falling upon the pavement. The pavement is, in fact,
in the relation of an unconscious spectator, and the rule
set up that a reflection varies with his relation to the
object reflected holds good. The movement of the earth
which is the " time o' day " could be as effectively
measured by the position of the reversed lettering on the
pavement, as by Gilbert White's sundial.

The same effect may be observed in a room should
sunlight fall slanting upon any brightly polished object —
a mirror projecting its image in light upon the floor, while
a brass fender and fire-irons may project lights upwards
to the walls or ceiling.

The glass wind-screen of a motor-car shows the phe-
nomenon beautifully, as the reflecting surface itself is
moved, and the reflection moves accordingly.

A horrid little boy (whom I remember) exploited this
scrap of observation from a safe distance by flashing the
bright sun-rays with a bit of looking-glass into the eyes
and upon the razor of a gentleman who stood shaving at a
window ; and from the language in which he was induced
to indulge by the performance, it is probable that the
gentleman was cutting himself.

The heliograph had doubtless long been in use at that

136 LINE

time, but it is no more than the practical application of a
knowledge of reflections of this order, and may indeed
have been invented by a mischievous boy who had studied
its effects in the way just described.

The difference between shadows and reflections may
be well seen where there are trees standing by clear shallow
water so that a shadow falling from the tree can be seen
upon the bed of the lake or stream. This will not share
the colour of the tree, and its shape will be conditioned or
contorted according to the shapes of whatever objects
lie at the bottom ; nor, as has been said, will it move as
the spectator moves.

On the other hand, the reflection will share the colour
of the tree, being a reversed image of it, not indeed so
strong as the direct image of the tree itself, but, if the
water be smooth and the light strong, almost as vivid.
If the water be stirred into ripples, the incidence of the
reflection is varied accordingly. If the angles of the
ripples are not sharp, but " oily," the accuracy of the image
may be only slightly interfered with ; but should the water
be sharply but regularly broken, the ripples may not
reflect the tree on one of their sides at all, and we may have
bars of reflected sky cutting across the reflection of the
tree. If the water be irregularly broken, so many reflect-
ing surfaces are presented that it may be difficult to trace
any particular image or colour, and a rapidly changing
kaleidoscopic effect is produced.

Many beautiful effects are thus set before the eyes
of the artist. A natural symmetry is set up by a simple
unbroken reflection, while the predominance of the reality
is preserved. Where the image is broken by bars of sky a
resum6 of the forms and colours reflected takes place, and
a more complex harmony is usually the result. In a

SHADOWS, REFLECTIONS AND AERIAL PERSPECTIVE 137

swirl of waters it is frequently by the reflections that the
form of the water is displayed, while the object itself is
distorted out of recognition.

It was a study of these matters that rendered the work
of the late Fritz Thaulow so interesting. The effects are
so beautiful in themselves that a merely accurate scientific
presentation of them would almost of itself become beauti-
ful also; but indeed it would be difficult to carry out
such a subject without some infusion of emotion to save
it from spiritual flatness.

Another and perhaps more beautiful example of shadows
and reflections at one and the same time may be seen when
the gulls come inland for the winter, and are standing
about upon or hovering over the frozen lakes. Gulls are
in themselves so beautiful in flight, particularly with the
sun upon them, that it is a joy to watch them at all times ;
but to watch one wheel and settle down upon the ice is a
peculiarly beautiful vision, for as it approaches the ice
a faint reversed ghost of itself appears to rise, taking shape
and body to meet it, from the dimly reflecting surface
of the lake, to sink and fade away into pale ice again
as the gull rises into flight. As the gull stands upon
the surface, the shadow and the reflection are readily
distinguishable, as they both start from the feet. The
reflections will partake of the colour of the bird, falling
invariably towards the spectator, while the shadow will
fall away from the sun. As the gull rises, the trinity of
bird, shadow and reflection is broken up; shadow and
reflection part company, and gradually dissolve as the bird
rises higher in air, and the force of the shadow is reduced
either from the effect of secondary lights and the thick-
ness of the air, and the reflection is diminished in scale,
or dissipated from similar causes, till it vanishes altogether.

138 LINE

The reflection will always be in a vertical line between the
gull and the spectator, but the shadow will depend upon
the direction of the sun.

Reflecting surfaces, no matter how highly polished,
can never give back more light than they receive.

There is a fallacy common among journalists and popu-
lar writers, by which diamonds " blaze " even in the
dimmest light. At the coronation of King George in
Westminster Abbey, I pointed this out to Mr. (now Sir
Philip) Gibbs, and chaffed him as to what I expected him
to write about the dazzling array of peeresses, whereas
it was impossible to see a single spark in the dim light.
" You have to exaggerate for the public," was his comment.
In descriptions of the festivities of the week by other
hands I watched the increasing brilliance of the same
diamonds, until in a report of the gala night at the Opera
they were " dazzling, blinding in their radiance," and this
was, I think, the most bright-eyed description of all.
This is doubtless good journalism, but is bad in a picture.
What effect a diamond has must be conditioned by the
light it receives. It may gain in effect from contrast
with dark surroundings; since a glint of light from the
prime source may be reflected with but little diminished
strength from a gloomy corner, among dull objects where
the rays are all otherwise absorbed. In consequence of
such gain it may trick the eye into a belief that it is even
brighter than the source of light upon which it draws;
but it has no light of its own, only a reflecting and con-
centrating or focusing power.

XIII

FIGURE DRAWING

ADMIRABLE books are published on artistic anatomy,
and no knowledge of form and construction can come
amiss to the artist. At the same time, in the writer's
experience, a knowledge of the bony framework in its
simpler aspects acquired by repeated drawing rather than
by " mu'gging up " a long list of Latin and Greek names
of muscles, tendons, and their origins and insertions will
stand him in most stead in the practical matter of drawing.
Let him be able to draw the skeleton moderately well by
heart, and he will find it of more service in the setting up
of a figure from life than the most abstruse knowledge of
the muscular system.

The proportions of the figure, its poise and action, are
all readily established if the elementary lines of the bones
are well observed to begin with.

In examining a large number of drawings from life,
it is curious to find how generally the action is under-
stated. This frequently arises from the method of begin-
ning the drawing at the head and continuing hanging
each bit from the last, the neck from the head, and the
chest from the neck, and so on to the feet, as though
the head were a clothes-peg from which the body hung like
a wet rag, instead of being stood firmly upon the ground,
with rigid bones inside, properly poised from the feet
upwards to support the head at the top.

No matter how beautifully the detail of the separate
parts may be drawn, the expression of the figure itself is
lost, and, if this has any value in the particular case,

139

140 LINE

there is no hope for the drawing from beginning to end.
At the best the drawing is a tame and spiritless affair,
with no " catch-hold " about it.

Unless this poise and action are seized upon to begin
with all the labour is in vain, and the more effort is spent
in making it presentable by tickling the surface modelling
in pursuit of " finish," the more grievous is the spectacle
to the judicious, since the end cannot take precedence of
the beginning.

Such a result will be less likely if, instead of the practice
largely inculcated in Schools of Art known as " blocking
out," the relative positions of the feet and the angle they
make upon the ground are marked upon the paper. It
should then be noticed upon which leg the weight mainly
falls, if upon one more than another, as this will affect
the position of the pelvis. The points of the knees and
of the pelvic girdle should be marked with a dot. If it
be a front view, the direction of the breast-bone to the
root of the neck, and the relation to this of the collar-
bones, might then be indicated lightly upon the paper :
if a back view, the line of the backbone from the base of
the skull to the pelvis is of the utmost importance, and
in many poses is the most essential line, dictating to or
dominating all the rest.

The head should then be securely fixed upon the neck
at its correct angle, and the perspective lines of the jaw,
nose and eyebrows carefully determined in this relation.

The arms of a standing figure being free members are
particularly subject to variation of position without to
any extent altering the rest of the pose ; yet they may take
a large part in the establishment of the silhouette.

But if the system of " blocking out " be followed, the
comparatively immobile parts are made subservient, and

FIGURE DRAWING 14!

to depend upon what is properly dependent, which is a
reversal of the logical process of drawing by construction.

If the points of the shoulder are rightly determined,
it should be a simple matter to establish the action of the
arms by sketching the angles of humerus, forearms and
hand by a single line, instead of tamely blocking them in
as solids with two, both of which may be wrong.

The action is the first thing to be observed and stated ;
and the expressive line of this will be found to be that of
the skeleton, so that this is by far the safest as well as
the simplest guide to follow, not that of the muscular
contours.

" Blocking out " is a dangerous habit to get into, as
it means the setting down at the very beginning of at
least two lines that are not even intended to remain,
but must be eventually rubbed out. It presupposes
absolute stillness in the thing drawn, and unlimited time
for the execution of the drawing. It treats all objects
alike, and takes no cognizance of their essential differences.
It leads to a lazy, because indirect, habit of mind, and a
bad notion of style, as it is inclined to destroy the sense
of suppleness of line, or, at best, to retard its acquirement.

The fewer lines that are put down as scaffolding — that
is, with the intention of taking them out — the better;
and the less the habit of using indiarubber is encouraged
the better. Directness and freshness are qualities of
high value in themselves, in line as in every other medium.
In any attempt at stylish drawing, therefore, it is better,
even though the line be tentative, to aim as nearly as
possible at finality, and to let the first brave but mis-
directed attempt alone, setting a second and conquering
line still more boldly by the side of it or partly over it.

It is not that any elaborate anatomization or even

142

LINE

much thought of such should be gone into in the presence
of the model. Little or nothing more than a child's
drawing of a man in straight lines, yet with more know-
ledge and intention, is proposed, in order to get the
expression of the figure, which is as important as that
of a face, and as definite as laughing, weeping, or smiling.

Points and angles to be particularly observed in setting
up a figure from life.

It is readily seen how much of the energy and expression
of a figure is conveyed by these few lines and with what
ease they may be stated. Yet how often do we see a
drawing purporting to represent equivalent action arrived
at with the utmost care and time in blocking out, but as
listless as a wet blanket on a clothes line. It is sad to
see a conscientious model in a difficult pose " withering
and agonizing " for such a result.

Insufficiency of knowledge is frequently a temptation

FIGURE DRAWING 143

towards display, as may be observed in many ways;
and students who know a little of the subject are often
disposed to underline the muscular anatomy in a life
study, much as a scholarly citizen of Stratford-atte-Bowe
will introduce a French cliche or Latin tag — " pro bono
publico " and " pour encourager les autres," shall we
say ? but really for his own glorification. The study of
anatomy has in view the more accurate expression of the
life, and not the skinning of the figure to show that we
know what muscles lie underneath.

Over-emphasis on detail detracts from the large sim-
plicity of tne whole, and should be carefully guarded
against. Moreover, beyond a certain point, every added
accent discounts or even cancels out a previously existing
one, so that the effect is one less of strength than of
weakness in the drawing.

A drawing rightly begun starts with the points and
lines of the most vital significance; so that no matter
how little time may be given to it, or what interruption
may prevent its carrying to the intended conclusion,
nothing can rob it of this vitality, arising from the artist's
energy of mind as well as from the character of the object.
Something of value is put there from the very start;
whereas if the attack is indirect, and the work be inter-
rupted from any cause whatever, there may be nothing
left behind but the pathetic evidence of a vague frustrated
intention to draw something. Failure, in short.

For one over-statement of the main action of a figure
in a life class, it is safe to say that there will be at least
twenty under-statements ; while the reverse may be the
case in the expression of detail, which is generally too
large, if it is at all intricate, and disproportionately
emphasized hi regard to its modelling.

144 LINE

One master may be remembered by the author's con-
temporaries mainly by his one word of advice directed
against this last most common tendency. " Sweeter —
sweeter," was all his criticism as he went from easel to
easel. He was one who found life so bitter that he was
found trying to dash out his brains against the studio
wall.

It is more cheerful to see a drawing that tends towards
caricature, which bespeaks energy of mind, than towards
an under-statement that bespeaks listlessness on the
part of the artist. If mistakes are to be made, a bold
mistake is better than a timid one.

The construction is much more important than the
modelling or fine discrimination of surface qualities.
These belong to the skin, and it is impossible to build any
but a second-rate man from the skin inwards.

If it were not for the underlying bony formation, the
human figure would be no more interesting to draw
than a cottage loaf or a jelly-fish. Softness has its
charm in the right place — so has hardness. Soft
cushions, yes — soft hearts, and so on — but not soft
heads and soft bones. Feminine grace is based upon as
firm a skeleton as is masculine strength. The " willowi-
ness " of a figure is not to be expressed by any compromise
of this underlying rigidity. The surface forms change,
but the bones are constant.

It is a good exercise now and again to see in how few
lines the figure may be expressed, even endeavouring
to draw the entire contour with one continuous line, as
Rodin did. This is not proposed as an exercise to be
indulged at the expense of close and careful study of
severe and close draughtsmanship; but occasionally

FIGURE DRAWING 145

only, with a view to check a tendency to narrowness of
vision and timidity in attack. It will help the student
to realize what lines are most expressive, and the value
of simplicity of statement, as well as how much of the
interest of a drawing depends upon the silhouette of
the form.

In every case of a study from life attention should be
paid to its placing upon the paper, so that the silhouette
is well arranged within the space to be disposed of.

To see a figure in profile with the tip of the nose close
up to the edge of the paper as though smelling it, while a
wide expanse of empty space is left upon the other side,
is one of the minor distresses of the critic with any
decorative sense; a worse being to find that a student
has started with the head so low down that he either
finds himself telescoping the lower limbs as he approaches
the bottom of the paper, cramping in the feet like a bad
boot-maker, or reduced to cutting them off altogether, in
the manner of Procrustes, that rough host, putting his
unwilling guests to* bed.

Beginning of the Study of Grouping.

The student should remember that no matter how well
he can make an individual study from the life, this is
not the end of his education as an artist ; nor should the
master allow him to think so. It is but a means to an
end.

The model is as a rule posed in a strong light against
a clear and simple background, so that selection has
already to a large extent been made for him.

If from looking at the model he will turn to look at
the semicircle of students, he will see that to draw them

146 LINE

in line is a task much more complex than would be the
painting of such a subject.

This arises from the fact that they are not generally
so brightly illuminated, but that there are many cross
lights upon them; and that, since this effect is outside
the natural scope of line expression, it is undesirable even
to attempt a full-tone statement. Yet some suggestion
of tone will be necessary if a sense of reality is to be con-
veyed, in order to express the sense of nearness or farness
of the individuals composing the group, unless an entirely
conventional means of expression be adopted, when the
sense of familiar reality is likely to be lost.

To this end he will find how strictly selective he will
have to be — that is, in other words, how exclusive. He
will find it difficult to resist the temptation to express
the charm of delicate reflections cast upward from the
drawing-paper, and the many varieties of complexion and
local colour which to a painter might prove the main
interest of such a subject. He must not forget that it
is form upon which he must base his expression, and
that such complexities call for other than line treatment.

It is, he will find, frequently easier to make his studies
for such a subject in some medium that will call for less
selection than is necessary in strict line ; for instance, in
charcoal or line and wash, from which he will find it
comparatively easy to translate the subject into line, as
his mind will not be distracted in the task by the many
accidents of colour, lighting and movement, and the
normal difficulties that drawing in any medium entails.

If the preliminary sketches and studies be made in pure
line he will be too readily induced to copy them, defects
and all, instead of re-creating the subject with a fresh
mind.

SKETCHES, STUDIES AND " FINISH " 147

Sketches, Studies and "Finish"

It may be worth while to discriminate between certain
aspects of drawing, sketching, or the making of studies.

What, for instance, is meant when we speak of a
"sketch," a " study," and a " finished " drawing ? What
is a " design " ?

There is much confusion as to the meaning of these
different terms, particularly between the words " sketch "
and " study."

Apart from dictionary definitions and etymologies, a
sketch may be taken to be a work undertaken and carried
out from beginning to end under the prime impulse of
the artist, and left, like the log in the proverb, to lie as
it falls.

A " finished sketch," meaning a sketch that has been
critically dealt with after the impulse is exhausted, is,
in this light, a contradiction in terms. Properly a
" sketch " as understood by the artist is " finished " as
soon as the original impulse has expressed itself. While
under this creative impulse the critical faculties are
practically dormant, or are called in only as candle-holders ;
whereas later, to produce the " finished sketch," the
candle-holder dictates to the worn-out impulse.

Walter Sickert in the early 'nineties, when an academic
ideal of " finish " was more prevalent than now, turn-
ing over a bundle of D. S. Maccoll's delightful water-
colours, raised the point as to whether their charm lay in
exact knowledge of when to leave off, or (chaffingly of
course !) in an incapacity to go on.

Such a medium as gouache in itself forbids any dis-
turbance of its freshness, and it must be handled as
a unit.

Drawn with very flexible pen (Brandauer 518). Great richness and
force as well as extreme delicacy may be obtained by such means,
much as in a dry-point.
148

SKETCHES, STUDIES AND " FINISH " 149

The aim is taken and the trigger pulled, and Fate
decides the rest. To watch elderly gentlemen at billiards,
or at bowls, urging with fantastic contortions and exhorta-
tions an unwilling servant in the shape of ball or bowl, is
to see the futility of endeavouring to correct whatever
mistake has been made in the exercise of the first intention.

A sketch is necessarily limited, having for its success
as uncomplicated an issue as possible. It should not be
" fired into the brown " on the off chance of bringing
something down, but should confine itself to a single
bird. Of any given subject there are, of course, many
aspects, so that for or of it many sketches may be made.
The line arrangement, the colour scheme, or the chiaroscuro
may each call for a separate and impulsive attack, each
in turn being treated as of the utmost importance. From
these will arise a knowledge of the subject, and a clearing
up of the mind's intentions, that should find an issue
in the full and more complex, or even better, more simple
expression to be attempted later.

For here is the difference — or at least one difference —
between a " sketch " and a " study." The sketch is
rather a clearing of the mind, a putting on record of
intentions, thoughts, or ideas uncomplicated by a critical
attitude or reference to any standard but its own. It
is, therefore, as far as a work can be, the expression of
the subjective side of the artist's mind. The " study "
is undertaken with a view to filling up those gaps that
exist in the knowledge or in the mind with information
pertinent to the matter in hand.

The sketch will be the most intensely emotional and
unhesitating expression of the artist's personality, and
the " study " the more altruistic and tentative, as its
object is the taking into the mind, while also recording,

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something outside itself, rather than primarily external-
izing a thought. The sketch is the means of giving out
from, and the study a means of taking into, the mind, an
artistically egoistic and explosive expression of personality
for its own sake in one case, and hi the other a record of
an impression upon it with an ulterior purpose, generally
of an informing nature for the artist himself, or for
exercise in craftsmanship. One generally runs into the
other, but here is the main difference.

Essays or studies should be made not only with a view
to acquiring knowledge of external things, but also to
decide upon the appropriate treatment of what it is
desired to express in accordance with the requirements
of any given case.

Where information is the main object in a study, the
style of setting it out is of secondary importance; but
after the capacity for making a plain and accurate state-
ment (which every student should be able to acquire)
has been achieved, a habit of setting it down in an inter-
esting as well as a truthful manner should follow.

The artist's interest and activity of mind is generally
shown in his selection from, rather than by his sleepy
acquiescence in, whatever is put before his eyes. Selec-
tion involves rejection, and does, of course, in itself involve
an emphasis.

The " finished " drawing is not simply a tidying up of
loose ends, a stippling, smoothing out and filling up, as
is so commonly supposed.

" Finish " is relevance, and nothing else — the inclusion
of what matters, and the exclusion of everything else.
To introduce anything that distracts from the calm con-
templation of the essential fact or idea is actively to
unfinish it. A " sketch " or " study " may be a finished

" THE MAN WITH THE MUCK RAKE "

In spite of the looseness, commonly called " sketchiness," of handling,
the artist considers this drawing to be as " finished " as any of his
drawings, the attempt having been to render a certain type of emotion
in the technique itself.

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work of art, and in the hands of a master generally is so,
though it be but a pair of hands. Just as the best orna-
ment will be subservient to and emphasize construction,
and the finer the construction the less ornament will be
required, so " finish " is a matter of simplification rather
than of elaboration. The tale of the charwoman and of
the doorstep ladies with arms akimbo is never finished,
being equally emphatic all through, all its parts having
equal importance. Time alone brings it to a pause, rather
than to a conclusion.

The sketch and the study may both precede the finished
drawing, and clear the way for its accomplishment.

Both should be kept at hand, or it will almost inevitably
happen that, in the critical endeavour to improve upon
them, their peculiar vitality will be lost by an evaporation
that only a constant reference back to them will check.

Every artist knows, to his sorrow, how easy it appears
to improve upon a sketch which he has made under a
happy and excited impulse, and at the time thought little
of, and has cast aside, only to find how far the labori-
ously " finished " performance falls short in all but its
laboriousness.

There is, or was, a curious pleasure taken by the Philis-
tine in the evidence of much time and painful labour
bestowed by the artist upon his work, instead of ease
and joy in its fulfilment. This painful labour in the
result shows, rather, slipshod preparation in the begin-
ning, and gives no pleasure to any but the ignorant
or the callous. It calls for pitying contempt for a
person who makes a fuss over the hardship of his lot
and the difficulty of his job. It is a breach of artistic
etiquette, as of a conjurer whose tricks are clumsily
performed for want of practice in them. On the other

SKETCHES, STUDIES AND " FINISH " 153

hand, the nonchalance that is sometimes affected, of
" knocking a little thing off," is if anything more irritating.
Thackeray said, " Your easy writing makes damned hard
reading," and the saying might be adapted to apply to
a certain type of facile draughtsmanship which is far too
common. It is not only irrelevant in parts, but altogether,
like whistling in church, or autograph albums.

In the East, particularly in the finest work of the
Chinese, it would appear to be a point of honour with
the artist to show no signs of hesitation or fumbling in
the finished work — so to have studied every stroke before-
hand that only the quintessential thought shall appear,
so that a drawing is as perfectly condensed as a sonnet of
Shakespeare's. It might almost be said that as rigid
rules had been established for the limitation of a picture
to a given number of lines or strokes as those by which the
poet limits his sonnet to fourteen lines of ten or eleven
syllables. In England we are generally more lavish and
slipshod, as though Swinburne should have accepted the
commission given by a noble editor to write a sonnet for
his magazine to run to " not more than five or six pages."

Necessity for Original Observation

The necessity of using their own eyes not only in the
performance of set studies, but as they go about the
school, and out of it, should be pressed upon students.
It is the things with which we are most familiar that in
general interest us least, and we look elsewhere for
romance and adventure, not seeing that it is only our
own lack of appreciation that finds ourselves and our
lives common or ordinary, and that nothing ever happens.

Almost every young man in an Art School begins by
wishing to draw great allegories, and the young girl too

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often mistakes the drawing of fairies on toadstools for
original imagination. They do not realize how often they
are but repeating what they have already seen, and that
it is more imaginative to divine the romance that under-
lies their own lives and is inherent in their own surround-
ings. The fairies and the allegories will both be better
conceived by an artist with a knowledge of life derived
not from a youthful contempt of its ordinariness, but from
a healthy interest in the daily life of the school, of home,
and in the man in the train or street. Who can draw
from memory the staircase he goes up and down twenty
times a day, or the familiar door even of the house he
lives in? The most observant artist must observe in a
particular way in order to do such things. Phil May, who
had the most remarkable capacity for drawing a portrait
from memory, rarely or never succeeded in drawing a
portrait of his wife, and it was more often than not a
chance acquaintance or someone unknown to him whom
he introduced into his drawings. He replied to my
question that he had to look at people with the intention of
drawing them in order to memorize them properly.

Students should be encouraged to draw and caricature
each other, and masters should not be offended if they
find themselves not too flatteringly handled. It should
also be pointed out how good a background is always
to be found in the Antique or modelling rooms, how effec-
tive is the lighting and grouping of a set of students at
work, and how graceful is the natural pose of anyone
absorbed at any task. Many students never observe
groups at all, concentrating upon individuals, so that the
establishment of the relation of one figure to another is a
source of trouble ever afterwards.

Even if such observation does not issue in actual draw-

ORIGINAL OBSERVATION 155

ing, its exercise is one of the pleasantest habits of the
mind, and fills even a journey inside a 'bus with interest.
What would Holbein make of the fat lady opposite?
And with what different eyes would Rembrandt and Keene
have viewed her !

Observation of life and character makes the drawing
of all other things easier. The man who can " see " and
draw a man or woman can, from that training, and its
greater complexity, see and draw, once his interest has
been stirred, a mountain, a tree, or a wave better than one
who has studied only the wave, the tree, or the mountain.
Once acquired the habit will never desert him, even should
he abandon entirely the pursuit of Art; and if it does
nothing else for him, it is likely to sweeten his passage
through life, by giving him a perpetual interest outside
himself.

War and Art Students.

So far as can be seen as yet, the war has had little effect
upon the outlook of the normal student. Those who left
their studies and returned seem in the main to look upon
the war as a hyphen between the serious businesses of
life — an interruption of their studies, like an ill-spent
vacation. They have been through hell and appear to
have forgotten. War, as subject-matter of Art, does not
seem to occur to them, and they go contentedly and
docilely through the same old curriculum with an almost
pathetic deference to its very mild authority.

What effect the war will have eventually remains to be
seen. It has not even yet been digested. A generation
is growing up whose first recollections are of a state of
war, to whom " peace " so-called is a new experience.

156 LINE

Every type of character is represented in a school.
It isn't, of course, the business of a school to teach
the many varieties of character presented to it, what
to express, but how to express themselves, and to
induce a knowledge of whatever special gifts may be
theirs. Many ex-service men received grants to enable
them to study Art as an eventual means of earning a
living by it ; and the readiest field open to them appearing
to be the application of Art to commercial purposes, it
is likely that the level of popular taste may be somewhat
improved by its becoming accustomed to the artistic
appeal. The risk is that in the rush of preparation of
great numbers of men, and their necessity to earn an
immediate living by such means, the standard of what is
considered " good enough " may be kept too low. The
" practical man " in the educational world, who considers
that he has done well as soon as he has " put a living into
a man's hands," may defeat his ideal by lowering the
standard and so cheapening work to a point that a living
by that means is little but an existence. It is not always
bad for the business if a little of the dream should penetrate
the multitude of it. The highest business of a School of
Art is the training of taste — higher even than its elemen-
tary duty of training in skill.

It is sometimes overlooked in the training of students
for commercial work that forcefulness can be achieved
without violence or vulgarity, in posters as in other
affairs. In advertising a suggestion is more persuasive
than a command of the "this means you " order.

If the primary object be to call attention, other con-
siderations come in. In sound there is all the difference
between a motor-horn and a carillon. The honking road-
hog with his peremptory " get out of the way " apparatus,

ART STUDENTS 157

such as is advertised as " very authoritative," and the
announcement to a dreaming city that another quarter
is gently passing, so leisured that the four quarters are
rilled with the music of their passing in an almost continu-
ous chime, present some of these in an obvious manner.

Attention may be called so violently — so shockingly
indeed — that the mind revolts against the giving of it
and reacts with added force against so churlish a command.
Just so with certain pictorial commands ; there are certain
soups, certain boluses, certain soaps, that we would rather
go ill, go dirty, go hungry, than wash with, eat, or swallow
— all of them, soup, soap and pills, assault our eyes in the
manner of the road-hog. We get out of their way as for
our own safety.

Sometimes the most effective advertisement is one that
in a noisy world whispers in the ear quite close, while the
noise and shouting of the crowd cancel out into a roaring
background where no individual voice is discernible. It
is remarkable with how little effort a voice of the right
quality and pitch can carry, and it is believable that a
child's or a woman's untried clarity might be heard through
the husky bellowing of a herd of bulls. So with a work of
distinction rightly judged. Modesty of appeal will gain
more from any person of spirit than a ruffianly command.

Students join up generally with the vaguest ideas of
what they want to express, sometimes with the crudest
notions of the good and bad in Art, having seen nothing
higher, frequently enough, than the lurid wrappers of
books and the cheaper Press. These should be confronted
as soon as possible with the best of the kind of thing they
admire, so that they may see that differences and degrees
exist, even in the abyss. Some, no matter what their
upbringing, are gifted by Nature with a flair for the best,

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and these aim directly at it as soon as seen, without the
necessity of its being pointed out.

Reproductions of the best work of all styles, countries
and periods should be readily available as examples,
though the best influences will generally prove to be those
who were the strictest in drawing, such as Holbein, Diirer,
and Botticelli, and those masters of selection and observa-
tion and stylish disposal of space, the Chinese and Japanese.
Of moderns, Ingres and Alfred Stevens are both good
influences, and might well be studied together, since
either cancels out to some extent any tendency to excess
or weakness in the other.

XIV

BEAUTY

So far as we are concerned in what is called the creation
of any work, all that can be said is that Beauty consists
in exactitude of application to purpose, which will imply
the greatest economy of force to a given end.

A square peg in a round hole is the antithesis of Beauty.

The definition of dirt as " matter in the wrong place "
is admirable.

The quality of squareness in a peg is not in itself admir-
able, nor, on the other hand, is roundness. Of two pegs,
one perfectly round, the other perfectly square, what is
there to choose, all other things being equal? Each
implies a purpose or design, so that neither is beautiful
unless it fulfils the condition laid down in the purpose
—to fit.

An unrelated quality as smoothness, yellowness, cool-
ness, dryness, brightness, has not in itself Beauty. The
quality must be appropriate.

It cannot be said that a cube is more beautiful than a
sphere, except it be better adapted to its end, otherwise
our lovers might be sighing in the rays of a cubical moon.

A billiard ball is a beautiful billiard ball according to
its capacity for accurate rolling, which is in exact accord-
ance with its sphericity — its singleness or impartiality of
surface; a die is beautiful in accordance with its exact
partiality into six surfaces, so that there may be no doubt
as to which side lies uppermost. While in both die and

159

FROM " A DREAM OF FAIR WOMEN "

An attempt to combine severity of line with richness of modelling

and colour. In the dark passages the white spaces become more

important than the black lines which include them.

BEAUTY l6l

billiard ball exactitude of balance is called for, a bias is
put upon bowls. Gilbert's fancy of a " cloth untrue
with a twisted cue and elliptical billiard balls " as a punish-
ment to fit the crime of the billiard sharp, and Lewis
Carroll's flamingo's neck as a croquet mallet, have the
beauty that belongs to the purpose of stirring our risible
faculties by tickling our sense of the incongruity of the
instrument with purpose — an unexplainable " cussed-
ness," a kink in things that mars the perfect order.

The crux comes when we begin to consider those things
either inside or outside ourselves where the purpose is
obscure or entirely beyond out comprehension, which
yet excite pleasure in the contemplative mind.

What is to be said of those beauties that exist without
purpose, so far, that is, as we can see or realize the purpose,
as in a sunset, a rose, or a butterfly ? — all these appearing
to squander a quite unnecessary loveliness out of pro-
portion to any useful purpose so far as the materialist
can see.

What are these but ornament without economy ? Does
the flower of the rose contain more beauty than its thorn,
the placid sunset more beauty than the thunderstorm, or
the butterfly more than the worm, since each equally
serves a purpose, and the purpose served being frequently
more readily appreciable in accordance with the obvious-
ness of the purpose ?

We must reckon here, I think, with the purposes of
our own life, and the beauty implanted in our own minds.
This may sound like begging the question, but we must
admit mystery here. " Not every height is holiness, nor
every sweetness good."

A child with the most limited range of association will

love bright colour for its own sake, and will prefer the pink
M

l62 LINE

part of the blanc-mange to the white, though there be no
appreciable difference in flavour. Hereditary instinct
will not guard it against yew berries or deadly nightshade,
and horses and cattle are frequently poisoned by the yew,
apparently by a wanton malice on the part of Nature.
Offensiveness of this kind, so far from proving protective,
might well have led to the entire extinction of the yew
and of nightshade, by leading to a vendetta against the
offender.

We love roses for the unexplained pleasure which they
yield to the senses of scent and sight, apart from any
obvious purposes they may serve other than these grati-
fications ; we rear them, not for propagation of their own
kind, but for our own gratification, to the extent that we
perfect the regularity of their form, and the delicacy of
their scent and colour ; we assist in the recreation of loveli-
ness ; but what is it primarily that impels us to appreciate
the original flower in its form, colour and scent — since
the wild rose apparently served little other end than its
own will to live ? and in what does that differ from the
nettle ?

The purpose of creation of a work may be ugly, yet
what more beautiful objects have been wrought by man
than his perfected weapons of destruction, from the
sword and the stiletto to the rifle and the man-o'-war ?

Balance, sharpness, line and appropriate ornament,
either for deadliness or display, in the blade, the hilt
and the scabbard, these are examples of fitness for purpose.

As to mankind itself, it is beautiful in proportion to its
economical adaptation to the purpose of its own being.
To put sand in the wheels of the social machine is an ugly
act, no matter how profitable it may appear for the moment
to the individual. Being anti-social he will be destroyed

BEAUTY 163

as soon as society can lay hands upon him, so that his
destruction is to all intents and purposes suicide, as
surely as a murderer who is hanged may be said to have
destroyed himself as well as another. This is uneconomical,
a waste of two lives, good and bad together — altogether
an ugly business.

All waste is ugly.

The best use is economy; so that we come to this,
that utility and beauty are allied. Cutting blocks with
razors is a waste of razors, it is inappropriate — therefore

The most useful of its kind will be the most beautiful
of its kind.

The highly specialized for a particular purpose, though
to some extent incapacitated for general use, will have
a highly specialized beauty; as a shire horse for slow
strength, and a thoroughbred for speed, or a bull-dog for
tenacity and a greyhound for swiftness.

Their relative beauty will depend upon the relative
value set upon these qualities; so that as these qualities
may be more or less in demand at different times, so will
their beauty or otherwise vary in the minds of men.

It is possible that the general agreement upon the
so-called " classic " type of beauty arises from the small
degree of specialization for any particular purpose — the
small amount of raciality involved, let us say, in the Venus
de Milo, so that, except for the dignity and grandeur
with which the sculptor has invested her, she may be said
to contain all the possibilities of, and therefore to repre-
sent, all women to all men rather than any particular
individual or characteristic.

Such a summary presentation is only to be achieved
by great knowledge; and to attempt such, as so many

164 LINE

artists do, without that knowledge, by a simple repetition
of type, is to run upon failure. The safe way is to aim at
a full appreciation and selective presentation of character
as the artist himself sees and feels it, not squeezing an
arbitrary mould upon the living character, and suppressing
its variations, but accepting, and even emphasizing, what-
ever deviation may appear from the normal.

Here is an indication of two attitudes or two conceptions
of Beauty — one that shall " blend, transcend them all,"
by presenting to our view a bouquet of all the flowers,
carefully cultivated without thorns or weeds ; and another
that shall not only recognize but display with a nicely
proportioned emphasis one individual flower at a time,
not only in what to a superficial view is its perfection
alone, but even the defects of its qualities, which to a large
mind and a deep-seeing eye are part of its true perfection,
just as a day contains darkness as well as light.

Portraiture of individuals comes within the latter cate-
gory, and the beauty of a portrait will reside rather in its
specialization of character than in its conformity with
a conventional type.

The purpose of a work of art will dictate which point
of view the artist should adopt — whether stress should
be laid upon the type or upon the individual.

A picture of a drawing-room scene of to-day in which
attempt should be made to represent all the women
according to a single type of Venus, and all the men as
Adonis, would fail in the dignity aimed at, since it would
fall into pomposity and absurdity by reason of its palpable
untruth to familiar facts.

All may be well, but there can be, in an imperfect
world, but one best. That there may be many kinds of
goodness and so many varieties of " best " is a blessing.

BEAUTY 165

Just as " dirt is matter in the wrong place," so there
can be no pleasure derived from Beauty misapplied.
Here again is lack of economy. For the rough work of
the world rough tools and means are requisite.

It is distressing to see a sculptor impatiently polishing
the marble before he has finished with the punch and chisel.
Such a work can never be finished because it has not been
properly begun. In a drawing, if pattern, no matter how
beautiful in itself, be applied to a weak construction in
order to conceal its weakness, or, worse still, to take its
place, nothing but irritation can be the result for any but
shallow minds. Construction must take precedence of
pattern or ornament, and only ignorance or vulgarity can
hold otherwise.

A jug that will not pour, or a table that will not stand
steady because in either case considerations of ornament
have preceded considerations of the purpose of the thing
designed, is an ugly jug or an ugly table.

Armour loses its beauty as soon as its protective value is
lost sight of, or replaced by its decorative value, so that
it becomes an encumbrance. The sons of King Gama in
Gilbert and Sullivan's Princess Ida, inaesthetic as they
imagined themselves, and contemptuous of such matters,
were acting in accordance with the canons of taste when
they preferred to fight in shirt-sleeves. The armourer
had become a poor artist, and it is to be supposed that a
Cockney youth, who could manage with a length of his
washerwoman mother's clothes-line to trip up the most
gallant knight, could have him at his mercy though he
himself were armed with no better weapons than the coke-
hammer and the bread-knife. Here is a reduction to the
absurd, which Beauty cannot be.

Meanwhile the beauty of roses troubles us.

166 LINE

Is it roses, or is it ourselves, that more demands explana-
tion is this particular ?

Where is the economy of a sunset or a rose ? Or is it
in us that economy is being exercised ? And that having
a mental hunger food is provided for it ?

What is the purpose of a rose in its relation to us, or
of us in relation to a rose, that we should become excited
over their presence before our eyes or in our memory ?

Why do we compare a rose favourably with other well-
loved flowers? Besides, there are many varieties of
roses, each more beautiful than the other ; one we admire
for its size, another for its smallness ; one for its redness,
another for its whiteness ; one because it is nearly black,
another that its pallor is hardly flushed ; one for its double-
ness, another for its open singleness and simplicity. What
is here but flat contradictoriness in such reasons as we
assign to our appreciation of them ? Nor do we question
them as to the purpose of their existence, nor demand
the least explanation from them as to how they are justified
by anything but their beauty, or, what comes to the same
thing (does it? — or doesn't it?), the beauty we find in
them. Does the beauty of roses exist in roses themselves
or in our love of them ? Is it roses we love, or the grati-
fication they give us ?

Tennyson's " Day Dream " comes to mind here :

" So, Lady Flora, take my lay,

And if you find no moral there,
Go, look in any glass and say,

What moral is in being fair.
Oh, to what uses shall we put

The wildweed-flower that simply blows ?
And is there any moral shut

Within the bosom of the rose ? "

It is one of the questions that will tease humanity to the
end — riddles which we cannot answer, and yet must go

" LADY FLORA "

An attempt to achieve richness without sacrifice of the underlying
severity of line, which is very heavy in order to support the superposed

" colour."

167

l68 LINE

on eternally seeking to find out. If we could solve the
mystery, would Beauty remain?

Certain abstractions such as Unity, and Variety in
Unity, Harmony, Proportion and the like are put forward
as essential qualities of Beauty, but each of these may be
as hard to define as Beauty itself.

It would be necessary to examine the bases of sensation
themselves to arrive at any satisfactory solution of only
the first of the many facets to the question, " What is
Beauty? "

In the case of sight with which we are immediately
concerned, association alone is not sufficient guide. Red
in its many degrees may be associated with sunset, with
apples, with deadly nightshade and with blood ; with food,
with contentment and rest, with poison, with horror;
with good and bad equally. If this is the case, association
of ideas alone is not enough to account for our appreciation
of colour; and if of colour, why not in other matters
also? That association is not necessarily the basis of
our pleasure in colour may readily be proved by deciding
whether we prefer the appearance of the red or the green
railway signal against the night sky. The general choice
will probably be the red, in spite of its being well known to
all as the danger signal.

Colour will appeal to the sense more than to the mind,
being an attribute of form ; but form that does not appeal
to the reason, and so offends it, either on account of its
chaotic condition, its ineptitude for purpose, cannot
please a fastidious mind. The mind demands construc-
tion and purpose in form, and unless this demand is met,
not only is the mind not satisfied, but is actively dis-
satisfied and resentment is set up.

Discoloration, as being inappropriate to the object

BEAUTY l6g

coloured, will also stir resentment in the same way, though
the colour may not in itself be unlovely. Green or yellow
cheeks, for instance, a jaundiced or cadaverous complex-
ion, just as an excess of red, may be definitely unpleasant
to the mind. But " discoloration " involves an association
of ideas; in the given case of green cheeks implying an
unhealthy state of body or an affectation suggestive
of vicious taste, as opposed to pink as implying
health and naturalness. The same shade that would be
unpleasant upon a cheek may in itself give pleasure in a
scheme of decoration for a wall or a china vase, where no
particular thing is represented or even suggested, so that
the association of ideas is, if present at all, so vague and
remote that it may be dismissed as the basis of our sensa-
tion of pleasure. A vivid green or yellow reflection
upon a face as apart from the local colour may, on the
other hand, give exquisite pleasure, and that of the most
innocent order, as from the bright green reflections of
sunlit grass, or of yellow, as when children test each other
for " how much they love butter " with a fresh-pulled
and glossy buttercup held under the chin.

A face under a green or red sunshade, in firelight, or
near a coloured lamp-shade may remain beautiful, may
even be beautified, though it be reddened to the hue of
a toper's, made crimson as a beetroot, or orange as a
carrot. The colour being an attribute of the light and
not of the object upon which it falls, these associations do
not present themselves to the mind, which may be
delighted either by strangeness, which may be called an
inverted association, a dissociation that is from ordinary
experience or a departure from the normal, or by that
unexplained pleasure which we take in colour for its own
sake, as giving comfort to the eye. This comfort to the

170 LINE

eye may arise from two extremities of cause — either of
rest or of excitement.

Lady Burton, the wife of Sir Richard Burton, the
explorer and translator of the Arabian Nights, explained
that she wished all her carpets and wall decorations to be
green, as a rest to the eyes after so long time spent in
hot, sandy and arid places. On the other hand, the red
blind of an inn on a cold night will delight the half-frozen
traveller with its communicated sense of warmth.
Children, young people and savages like bright colours,
just as they like strong flavours, and to express themselves
gaily, while old sobersides may prefer subtle variations
from the neutral in cool greys, fawns and such-like tertiary
colours, suitable to one who is content to occupy the
background of life, or as a gourmet, to whom a hint of a
flavour is sufficient.

Heraldic Colours as represented in Black and White.

The poetry of Keats is filled with glory of colour, like
the heart of a rose. It is for this pictorial sense of glowing
splendour that two of his verses have become so widely
known and endeared to those who know them :

" A casement high and triple-arched there was
All garlanded with carven imag'ries
Of fruits and flowers, and bunches of knot grass,
And diamonded with panes of quaint device,
Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes,
As are the tiger-moth's deep-damask'd wings ;
And in the midst, 'mong many thousand heraldries
And twilight saints, and dim emblazonings,
A shielded scutcheon blush'd with blood of queens and kings.

" Full on this casement shone the wintry moon,
And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast,
As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon ;
Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest,
And on her silver cross soft amethyst,
And on her hair a glory like a saint ;
She seemed a splendid angel, newly drest,
Save wings, for heaven : Porphyro grew faint :
She knelt so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint."

HERALDIC COLOURS 171

It may not be generally known that there is a recog-
nized series of symbols to be employed in the black and
white representation of heraldic devices by which the
colours are indicated. Thus a dotted ground represents
"or," or gold, parallel vertical lines "gules" or red,
parallel horizontal lines azure, or blue, cross-hatched
lines sable, and diagonal lines " purpure " or " vert,"
purple and green, according to their direction.

Mr. Emery Walker, of high authority in such matters, has
assured the author that such indications are not necessary,
and that it rests with the taste of the draughtsman whether
or not he should employ them. Particularly in small
drawings to be printed with type, such indications are
frequently better left out altogether, as they may interfere
seriously with the clarity of the heraldic design.

Any artist who proposes to employ heraldry for any
purpose, such as a book plate, should consult a handbook
on the subject, not only to get his heraldry correct, but
also that he may employ a good and appropriate style.
Stationers' heraldry became very florid and debased. The
best is never realistic, but highly conventionalized, clear
and simple, its original purpose being to be recognized by
all at a glance.

A hint might be taken from this heraldic method of
indication of colour in making sketches from Nature in
pencil or other black-and-white medium, as a reminder
of the colours and tones of objects; and it should not be
difficult for an artist so to elaborate a code of his own
composed of lines and dots as to make truly valuable
memoranda in this manner in his sketch-book, instead
of the somewhat vague written notes generally found.

172 LINE

The Pursuit of Beauty.

The objects in the artist's mind, apart from his un-
explained impulse urging him to his task, may be many
and various, but usually tending towards Beauty in one
of its many manifestations. Even the fiercest caricature
may arise from a love of Beauty finding its expression in
a hatred of ugliness.

The artist may be narrow in his range of ideas and
the scope of his appreciations in Nature, or may be so
specialized in his craft as to be limited by it ; or even so
skilful in it as to remain content with the repetition of a
performance in which he can be assured of success.

The spectator, on the other hand, is frequently narrow
in the range of his pictorial understanding, while the
majority of picture lovers love them primarily not as
pictures, but as pictures of or about something, which
recognized something it is that gives rise to the pleasure
of the spectator.

The love of pictures for their own sake is comparatively
rare.

This may be exemplified easily enough by an examina-
tion of what is thought most likely to appeal to popular
taste, as exemplified in the covers of the magazines,
novel jackets, posters and advertisements of commodities
of all kinds. As a subject a pretty girl wins hands down
all the time and all along the line. A pretty girl with a
dog, a pretty girl with a parasol, a pretty girl in evening
dress, a pretty girl in a bathing dress or in none, is made
to act equally as a decoy for any and everything, from
a tin of condensed milk to a seaside resort and a bottle
of Epsom salts. Everybody loves pretty girls, and the
love of them spreads over into a love of pictures of them.

This example is chosen in order to explain in an obvious

THE PURSUIT OF BEAUTY 173

way the difference that exists between the two forms of
appreciation of a work of art, either primarily for some-
thing extraneous to itself, or primarily for itself alone.

Love, of course, is like that, and it is natural to an
artist to prefer that his art should be loved for itself
alone, like a jealous heiress who is afraid it is not her
beautiful eyes and soul quite so much as her money-bags
that have proved the attraction.

The honest public is quite puzzled that artists appear
to take such small stock in many works that are " per-
fectly sweet " to its own palate.

The fact is that these works may be not only not
pleasing to the artistic taste, and therefore negative and
negligible, but are often actively displeasing. A picture
of a pretty girl, no matter how pretty the face, may be
a denial of beauty, and so, actively, an ugly picture.

" The Beautiful is hard " according to Aristotle; but
while the mistake is frequently made of confounding
prettiness with Beauty — they have little or nothing in
common — " prettiness " is the easiest thing in the world.
The prettiness here in mind is the prettiness of blanc-
mange, of pink wall-papers, of sentimental tunes, of
view-painted clocks, of cochineal, of unreserved cheap
scents, powder puffs, rouge and lip sticks — in short, it
comes to one word, " flagrance " ; or to another, " cheap-
ness"; or to another, "commonness"; or to another,
" speciousness " ; or to another and last word,
" vulgarity."

Of all these " speciousness " is perhaps the most
damning. " Falsity " in art is to be shunned like the
plague.

" Prettification," in the mistaken idea that in that
direction Beauty lies, is the first step along the downward

174 LINE

path in Art. A little to begin with, then a little more,
then excess ; like a girl with a rouge pot, a dram drinker
or a dope fiend — all the true austerity of Beauty is lost.

This applies only to prettiness where it masquerades
as a form of reality, and where its unreality is not felt,
in consequence of a flaw in the mind of the producer or
spectator. There is no more depressing sight than a
badly powdered and painted harridan in an opaque
heliotrope complexion, and all the colours of the spring
without the line, where it is to be supposed that the bloom
is intended to be taken as the bloom of youth itself. The
fib makes too great a demand upon our politeness, and
we feel awkward, as being accessory to a falseness. Age
is rendered absurd, and its absurdity hurts our sym-
pathetic inclination. Where reality is not implied and
acquiescence in the fib is not demanded, where the
affectation is perfectly frank, we have quite an amusing
form of Art ; and it is not easy to see why, if a lady had
good reason to be dissatisfied with the colour of her hair,
she should not have it dyed emerald green, if it so pleased
her ; or why elderly gentlemen with a nice taste for colour
and form should not have their wigs made purple, and
crested like a peacock. In such a case, our acquiescence
would be complete, and we should not hesitate to praise
the charm of the result, where now we are compelled to
keep silence on the subject of hairdressers.

A lie is a lie, or a fib is a fib, only where acquiescence is
expected, where it is intended that the hearer should be
deceived and " taken in." The risk of " prettification "
is that the artist may take himself in by it as much as the
public. If he begins fibbing to himself, he may end by
lying outright to all the world.

Sincerity is therefore one of the first requisites in Art,

THE PURSUIT OF BEAUTY 175

never to be lost hold of; but Sincerity is not to be
regarded as a synonym for dullness or excessive Puri-
tanism ; still less for Pomposity. Cheerfulness may well
break in. The most religious people are often the gayest
and most amusing.

The desire to represent external objects, to imitate
with a near or far approach to actual reproduction, is
the simplest aim and form of Art.

Pleasure is taken in this, both in the making and in the
contemplation of the result, for what reason is not yet
cleared up, even after all that has been written upon Art
and ^Esthetics.

The reason remains as obscure as that which makes us
prefer toffee and jam, let us say, to Turkey rhubarb, even
in the minutest quantity, and no matter how urgently this
may be called for by our condition. A healthy palate will
choose what is best for it, being en rapport with the rest
of the body.

It is to be imagined that lack of skill alone, in the early
stages of the artist's progress, restrains him from exacti-
tude and fullness of imitation. He would probably, if
he could, take photographs in bronze, and colour them
in everlasting paint so to resemble life that it might be
mistaken for it — even to pray the Gods to endow the work
with life and movement, as did Pygmalion.

The " Sleeping Beauty " at Madame Tussaud's remains
to the yokel mind the last word of wonder. Not alone
the waxen beauty of the complexion, but the mechanism,
pneumatic or other, that heaves the bosom from morning
to night during opening hours with a perpetuation from
year to year equal to the blush — each affords an equal
satisfaction to his aesthetic appetite.

176 LINE

The yokel is our nearest approach to the savage state
here in England. Yet most of us carry a yokel somewhere
concealed within us, no matter how deeply we have
managed to bury him.

In country places a tomato or a carrot, or a " forked
radish fantastically carved," resembling a man or woman,
will be passed from hand to hand and be for the time it
lasts the wonder of the village community. The mandrake
that is said to resemble a baby, and is fabled to scream
like a lost soul as it is torn from earth, belongs to this
order. Fancied resemblances in rocks or trees to men,
to animals, or to other things not themselves give rise to
a peculiar pleasure, even when it appears that Nature
herself has been the artist, without assistance from the
hand of man. " Castles in the clouds " — who has not
seen them built and unbuilt out of that flimsy material ?
What child has not commanded those troops that ride
by, and watched his full-sailed navies sweep across blue,
suspended seas, to vanish or founder like the realities they
suggest ?

Is it because a picture — indeed any work of art, whether
a statue, a play, a song, or a story — offers a way of escape
into other surroundings not our present — into a timeless
other place — a cheap transit to foreign parts, an excursion
to the moon without payment to go, without baggage,
pain, trouble or seasickness in the going, and without
heartsickness in the home-coming to reality that lies at
the root of our pleasure ?

Is it all really a wool-gathering, a tale of home to a home-
sick mind ? — at its best the vision of an inn such as a tramp
might dream as he lies soaking and penniless in the ditch
by the hedge ?

We are not content, and it is a beguilement with news

THE PURSUIT OF BEAUTY 177

of elsewhere than where we are. We are at home, and
we wish to be abroad. Our sordid life is not our true
reality, and we wish for the dream to come true ; or, life
is too real, and we wish to escape into a land of enchant-
ment where the roads are swept and policed for us by a
witch's broom and a wizard's wand.

It is something of this kind that lies at the root of our
love of resemblances, which are nothing but reminders
of something we are interested in. While the beloved
is with us we have no need of a portrait. Yet would not
Michael Angelo have carried a carte-de-visite size photo-
graph of Vittoria Colonna in his breast pocket ? — or Dante
one of 'Trice, rather than a perfect work of art ? Would
not Ulysses in his wanderings have frayed and worn out
a penny picture-postcard of Ithaca ? The lover is anxious
for every particular, but we would have the artist's
summary and emphasis.

These responses to our desires, direct or indirect, as
they answer our longings, or seduce us from the present,
are surely the basis of our love of Art, the meat for our
hunger. Yet the delicate flavours, the sweets, the sours
and savouries, the caviare, the Amontillado, the peaches,
the fine things of the palate, that carry hints of memory
and vague hopes here into the present — tales of countries
unexplored, unthought-of even — these also come in to
satisfy something more than simple hunger.

It seems to sort itself out to this — that Art is a form, of
altruism. Our bodies seem to be transported by an appear-
ance away from the present in time or place, or our minds
are placed, by a willing submission or surrender, under the
will of another, accompanying them upon the road they go,
like Ruth with Naomi. As though for a short time we said,
" Thy people shall be my people, and thy god my god."

178 LINE

It is the skill with which this submission and surrender
to self-forgetfulness is attained either by the presentation
of the loved thing — the actual girl or the house which is
the home we left behind, or the golden girl, Cote d'Or, or
Eldorado we set out to seek — the Paradise we have
left or go in search of, or simple companionship on a
road we ourselves must go, that decides our opinion
of the work, its success or failure with us as creators or
spectators.

It might be objected that the ironic presentation of
things as they are, in the spirit of Voltaire's Candide,
or of Thomas Hardy's Return of the Native, of Hogarth,
Daumier, Degas, Forain, and the whole race of carica-
turists, is against this view — that Rembrandt himself
presents no golden girl, no Eldorado, but rather the out-
cast from Paradise, the homeless and disinherited.

Yet still the argument holds. All these are akin ; for
though the appeal of the work be less personal, less enter-
taining, less direct to our desires, it is made through our
sense of the lot we have in common with all mankind.
Not our love, perhaps, but our pity, which is proverbially
akin, is involved. Hardship, injustice, all the sorrow of
life, what does our recognition of these imply but a sense
of something lost — not a denial of the existence of
Eldorado, but an emphatic recognition of it, though else-
where than here and now? Art, then, becomes the
comforter of our pilgrimage, a sharer in it, where a tale
of far-away home or heaven might seem too like a
mockery of our footsoreness. What use to talk of golden
slippers to a man on the march, with a blistered heel?
It is then that a sense of fellowship in suffering makes
the march easier for most, if not for all.

Art is indeed in this view nothing but an expression

ARTISTIC "PROPERTIES" 179

of our home-sickness — of a divine nostalgia, shown in
our pity for things as they are and a regret for them as
they might be.

Portraiture, it is true, demands sometimes a stiff diges-
tion, where " likeness " is all that the artist gives us; as
of the fat Lord Mayor, who has come into his Paradise
here and now, and can be seen in chubby enjoyment of
it. He has found the Eldorado for which he sighed, and
here is the picture of a contented man — no nostalgia here,
a clothed body but a naked soul — Nunc dimittis — his is
the work of art; he commissioned it and set the subject,
and wrought through the craftsman's hand, and this is
the material expression of his material ideal — Himself.
He has regained his Paradise, and here he is seen, immor-
talized, actually sitting in it.

To the spiritually hungry an effect may be produced
akin to that upon the body by feasting seen through
lighted windows, or by the music that mocked and
emphasized the loneliness of Henley as he passed along the
street. At best, the Mayor may bore him.

This is one of life's little ironies. Few people in these
degenerate days are found to pray —

" God bless the Squire and his relations,
And keep us in our proper stations."

But this was never really a folk-song, or true poetry
in spite of the rhyme ; and so with the portrait.

A rtistic ' ' Properties . ' '

Art casts a wide net ; and we come to a brief considera-
tion of what means are best to be employed in accordance
with what fish it is proposed to catch.

l8o LINE

If a space be given, the purpose of that space will be
the first factor dictating treatment; as, whether it be a
fixed space, as a wall, or a movable one, as a book or
easel picture.

In the case of the fixed space the design should be made
with due regard to the lighting.

The size and position of the given space will dictate
the scale of the composition, and its surroundings will
largely determine the style of treatment to be employed.

Nothing is more irritating than an affectation of an
unfelt archaism, professing more or less learnedly to har-
monize with an ancient building, or than a self-satisfied
application of a fashionable and independent modernism.
Witness the effects of certain Gothic revivalists, and of
the introduction of the pseudo-classic white marble wall-
slabs of Flaxman's time into our village churches, or the
statues of Canning, Disraeli and others into Westminster
Abbey in more recent years. The spirit of place and time
must have a large say in the matter, and any aggressive
or unscholarly display of personality at the expense of
its surroundings, unless steeped in this spirit, no matter
how permissible or admirable elsewhere, will be a vulgarity,
a display of artistic ill manners.

A wall should remain a wall, however treated, and
no effort, or apparent effort, be made to make it appear
other than what it is. Is it not, therefore, to be used for
a display of the artist's powers of realistic representation,
but all should be kept, no matter what amount of modelling
or light and shade be used, well inside the scope of the
conventions of decorative art. The presence of the wall
as a wall must not be lost sight of — it should not be
camouflaged into a doorway or into a projection.

In the case of a book-page, or of an easel picture, the

ARTISTIC " PROPERTIES " l8l

restrictions are generally less severe, though even here
a willing submission to the limitation imposed by the
means used is a sign not of a slave, but of a master of his
craft.

The finer the mind the more selective it will generally
prove, searching rather than to put in all, to leave out all
but the essential to the purpose in view.

In the case of a book, the style and period of the writer
will dictate to- the artist to much the same extent as will
the style and period of a building. The purpose of the
book, its size, and the " make-up " as regards paper and
type must all be kept in view.

Flat pattern alone will suffice for the illustration of
certain forms of thought, but it is painful to see the effort
made to force a style based, let us say on Beardsley's,
upon a subject it is entirely incapable of expressing. A
sincere admiration of Beardsley's art and the novels of
Charles Dickens is doubtless entirely compatible, but any
effort made to illustrate Dickens by the employment of
abstractions of pattern alone is to reduce Art to an
absurdity. Solidity of form and as forcible a presentation
of character as possible should be the aim, even leaning
somewhat towards caricature rather than to any suppres-
sion of reality as the artist sees it.

The easel picture may range from the entirely decora-
tive and conventionalized pattern, even to the deceptively
realistic, or, as in recent years, may be made the vehicle
for the expression of the most abstruse and abstract
ideas of form, line and colour. It may be static, or
endeavour to cross the border-line of time, to dismiss the
arbitration of the clock, and deal with movement itself as
the prime motive of its composition. To what develop-
ments this may lead it is hard to say, but there are signs

l82 LINE

that, at any rate in some quarters, this effort has for
the time being exhausted itself.

Cubism, vorticism and other movements contain ele-
ments and ideas with which the author is insufficiently
acquainted to analyse or expound, not from lack of
sympathy with them, but out of pure ignorance, and
perhaps an indolent habit of mind which has allowed him
to retain his ignorance in contentment.

In so far as they aim at freeing Art from its bondage
to a merely reproductive or imitative function, and in so
far as they have achieved this aim, they have clarified
matters; but it is to be feared that this clarification is
more than counterbalanced by the amount of confusion
they have wrought in other directions.

To aim at achieving Beauty by the simple expedient of
drawing only obviously beautiful things or people is a
mark of a commonness of mind that decks itself up in a
beauty not its own, as in a second-hand suit of finery
that has seen better days.

Nothing is more beautiful than flowers, and nothing
simpler and easier than to paint them— "in a way."
But is there a painted flower picture in the world that
can compete in beauty with the vision of an old woman's
wrinkles as etched in colourless line by Rembrandt ?

Again, a work that depends for its interest upon its
repetition of another art, without recreating it, as in
the case of the bulk of architectural drawings, can
only take a low rank in the scale of artistic expression.
Where these are fiercely and imaginatively dealt with,
as in Piranesi's " Carceri," or where they form the basis
of a design whose stylism acts like a pillow to contempla-
tion, as in Cotman's large vision, the artist makes good
his claim to the material of his choice; but most often

ARTISTIC " PROPERTIES " 183

the subject is greater than the artist, and we are inclined
to wish that he had let it alone.

Much the same applies to such pictures as depend for
their interest, not on any quality of vision on the part of
the artist, but upon the quality and kind of studio proper-
ties he may possess — furniture, costumes, armour, china
and the like. The beauty of these things belongs to
themselves and to their creator. They are in themselves
finished works of art, and the building up of a picture
from such material, no matter how beautiful the material
may be in itself, and no matter how it may exhibit the
connoisseurship of the artist as collector and antiquarian,
is apt rather to show his artistic mentality in but a poor
light. The copying of such objects is so simple an affair
that it frequently is but one remove, from copying
another man's picture and calling it one's own.

Rembrandt loved these things, but they never took
precedence of his love of humanity.

Watteau used them to take us to a world just outside
our own — a world of as delicate a charm as the gardens
of the Abbey of Theleme — the Abbey of heart's desire,
whose motto was " Fay ce que voudras." In Watteau's
world hear Monsieur Bon Mot accusing Madame Bon
Bon of having a heart made of chocolate, and her retort
that his brain was composed of a cracker motto, and a
chorus of regrets from the ladies on the expensiveness of
a shepherdess's life in brocades and flowers. But how
well worth the expense ! And how all these costumes
became them " in that station of life to which it pleased
Watteau to call them " out of the inane — so delicately
real, so delicately unreal in that glimmering twilight of
the silken world of his creation. These fripperies were
but an attribute, not the basis, of his charm.

184 LINE

Too often such pictures are mere shops of spurious
" curios " — spurios is a good " portmanteau " for
them — "specimen rooms" of "period" furniture lucky
if no error of style crops up in them; "still life,"
or, as the French expresses it better, " Nature morte,"
dead stuff. As Blake said, " A fool can do this, as it is
the work of no mind."

XV

CONCLUSION IN PLASTER

YESTERDAY was the last of the College year. One
of the Art masters had given reminiscences of Watts, of
Whistler, of Phil May — three artists who between them had
covered so wide a range of Life and of Art, who had lived
and worked with such different aims and in such different
ways — one to a great age, one to be old, and the other
barely to the middle of the allotted span — yet all died in
the same year, the high, serious mind, the wit and the
humorist alike. Useful illustrations of the inclusiveness
of Art ! The master had known them all, and had admired
them all "this side idolatry"; they had been almost
the gods of his boyhood and young manhood, which didn't
after all seem so very far behind him. He suddenly
realized that he was speaking to a generation that had
sprung up to whom the names so familiar to him were
but names of lives remote — that he was telling of a vanished
time which to these youngsters was as ancient as the history
of Greece and Rome, out of which he, like a newly-dis-
covered gramophone of the period, had, by the chance
touch of a spring, been set going, so that they heard in
the present a voice speaking out of a dead past.

The distant years get telescoped together for the
young, and years that to middle age seem but yester-
day, are for them beyond the horizon. To them
" Victorian " has no qualifications such as " early,"
" mid " and " late." A decade or two in that direction
makes no difference. All is at the vanishing line. It is

Severe use of line for the expression of form, with the endeavour to
maintain the same severity throughout, both in local colour and shade.

186

CONCLUSION IN PLASTER 187

the nearest — past and future — the foreground, in fact,
that takes up so much room in the perspective of time.
At twenty, thirty years ago is a lifetime and a half. Never-
theless, from a very young student the question, " What
was Turner like? " and "Did you know Constable? "
came on him as something like a revelation. If it had
been ridicule he could have held his own; but it was
Innocence at large with something too uncommonly
like reverence for an age of which he couldn't boast.

It was as though, when thinking it is still early, a clock,
even though it be an hour too fast, strikes a sudden
reminder that it is later than we thought.

Leaving the illuminated " Life " room, he took the
short cut through the " Antique," now deserted in the
summer twilight.

There was the fresh, clean smell of pine and deal — the
new " donkeys " had just been delivered. He took a
deep breath of it with all the other familiar faint scents
of cut cedar pencils, paint, turpentine and drawing boards
that predominate so pleasantly in a School of Art. He
had known them all his life. Why should they strike
him all afresh to-night?

In the twilight there stood the clapping Faun ; he had
done his stippled drawing of that, and anatomized it
when he tried for the R.A. probationership. There was
the slave of Michel Angelo ; he had painted that in mono-
chrome— had even got a prize for it. There was the
Discobolus ; in that he had passed the memory examina-
tion. It was so familiar that he had almost forgotten it.
" O, W X Y Z, you had clean gone out of my head,
Darling Mr. Discobolus ! " he misquoted.

Someone had placed a small school study in modelling
from the life between the knees of the great broken Torso

188 LINE

of Herakles. How powerful it looked — greater, more
titanic in its sweep of line than ever for the contrast with
the small and precise realism of the student. He had
always thought it fine — somehow to-night it was finer.
Yet these were but the hackneyed old masterpieces, the
chopping-blocks for beginners hi Art. By the door through
which he was about to pass glimmered the great Aphrodite
of Melos. Hackneyed? Of course — most hackneyed of
all. But some things — some truths — never become
platitudes. He paused and stepped back. Here, in
this deserted twilight, he looked at her anew, as he had
not looked at her for years.

He was caught and held back by her in that momen-
tarily receptive mood that comes at the end of a job
accomplished. How often he had hurried by, always, it
is true, with reverence, but with that absurd sense of
something more pressing to attend to. All the little
things — requisition forms for rags, for paper, for press
black, for middle varnish — Aphrodite could wait. But to-
night, there was nothing — his job was done, and there was
no hurry. She showed none — it was part of her dignity.

Everything fell away from him into a dim background,
until the twilight held nothing but these two — the glim-
mering presentation of Aphrodite and the grey man.
Art and the artist confronted each other. To him it
seemed not so much that he but that she was the living
and active force.

Once before, in the Louvre, he had experienced some-
thing of the same exaltation, but with a difference. Then
he had heard the blow of the mallet and the chipping of
the punch. It was the sculptor rather than the Goddess
who had come alive, just as it was always Velasquez
rather than Philip who lived upon the canvas in the

CONCLUSION IN PLASTER 189

National Gallery. Ah, yes — technique — technique — at
its highest self-sacrifice and discipline in the aristocratic
suppression of display ; this he knew. But to-night it was
the Goddess of Beauty herself who appeared, looking
across two thousand years and more, not dead, but living
— not still living only, but eternal.

Nor was she born only of the mallet and punch that
wrought her, that he had heard chipping in the Louvre.

Her origin is before Eve, before Lilith, before Pandora.

The exaltation passed. He knew well enough that this
is but a manifest of her who is in the brains and hearts
of all men. Eternal Beauty, eternal calm, eternal rest
for the tired spirit, the fulfilment of all desires, the great
Ideal here realized as far as may be on this earth. Here
is the summary of all that went before, the completion
of the strivings of the little men like him who each had
struggled forward, adding their contribution to the sum
of thought, of knowledge, of worship and of skill. The
chisel he had heard in the Louvre was the spearhead
of the phalanx of dead men behind the sculptor. Our Lady
of Melos — Eternal Mother — Goddess, not of Passion, cruel
and blind, but of Beauty and of Love, which sees, and
understands, and forgives — eternal solace of mankind —
was she not too a revelation as divine as that bestowed
upon the prophets of the vindictive and terrible Jehovah
of old ? A revelation, not in a dialect of Babel, but in
the unchanging and timeless language of perfect form,
speaking the tongue that needs no translation, being
understood of all nations, through all ages, by literate
and illiterate alike. Pagan? Pan and the death of the
gods? He didn't understand. The thought seemed
stupid. Here, at least, one Goddess was alive. The
Hebrew, the Greek and the Latin tongues were dead. But

190 LINE

Form survived for all to see. All Beauty was Revelation ;
and Form the god-like language of it, since it speaks to
all. There is no dispute nor argument. Beauty does
not, cannot, lie, for untruth is ugly. The Goddess of
Beauty is Goddess also of Truth

The twilight deepened. The model had got into his
clothes, and came through the Antique room. His teeth
flashed out of the gloom. " Good-night, sare." " Good-
night, Antonio." Just so would the clapping Faun have
looked in trousers and a bowler hat. How those Italians
took the starch out of a London bowler was a miracle !

A jazz tune struck up in the students' common room;
they were dancing. The masters broke up and away.

" Good-night, Marriott. Good-night, Buckman. Good-
night, Fenn. Good -night, Bentley. Good -night,
Gardiner."

Darkness fell, enwrapping the tired slave, the tireless
Faun, and the Goddess alike, with the secret of that
ghostly interchange the words of which no listener has
caught ; only the carven groan of the slave, the chuckle
of the Faun, and Beauty's self filling the silence with the
throb of Life.

With what strange activities the mind can animate
inert matter — were they nothing but plaster ?

No — they, and all Art, are alive, and lifegiving.

Next day the school would be empty of all life but this —
this and the charwomen and the caretakers — and the
master went out, feeling a little like a priest according
to the order of Aphrodite.

At least he had seen the Goddess.

" After all, Art is worth while," he said, as he boarded
the tram for the " Elephant" — " in spite of the artists'
absurdity."

A SELECTION FROM
CHAPMAN & HALL'S
LIST OF ART BOOKS

LONDON : CHAPMAN &• HALL, LTD.
ii HENRIETTA STREET, W.C.2

HOW TO DRAW IN PEN
AND INK

By HARRY FURNISS. Illustrated.
Demy 8vo, 45. 6d. net.

MORE ABOUT HOW TO DRAW
IN PEN AND INK

By HARRY FURNISS. With numerous
illustrations. Demy 8vo, 45. 6d. net.

THE CRAFTSMAN'S PLANT
BOOK

By RICHARD G. HATTON, Professor
of Fine Art, University of Durham, Hon.
A.R.C.A. (Lond.). With numerous illustra-
tions in colour and black and white. Imp.
8vo, 303. net.

PERSPECTIVE FOR ART
STUDENTS, ARTISTS AND
DRAUGHTSMEN

By RICHARD G. HATTON. New and
revised edition. Cr. 8vo, 6s. net.

FIGURE DRAWING

By RICHARD G. HATTON. With

nearly 400 diagrams. Demy 8vo, ics. 6d.
net.

FIGURE COMPOSITION

By RICHARD G. HATTON. With
numerous illustrations. DemySvo, los. 6d.
net.

DESIGN

By RICHARD G. HATTON. With 177
illustrations. Demy 8vo, 73. 6d. net.

UNIVERSAL ART SERIES

Edited by FREDERICK MARRIOTT, Hon. A.R.C.A.
(Lond.), R.B.C., A.R.E. Recognised Teacher,
Fine Art, University of London.

THE ART OF ILLUSTRATION

By E. J. SULLIVAN. Medium 8vo,
255. net.

SCULPTURE OF TO-DAY

By KINETON PARKES. Two volumes.
Medium 8vo. Vol. I., 253. net. Vol. II.,
303. net.

MODERN MOVEMENTS IN
PAINTING

By CHARLES MARRIOTT. Medium
8vo, 2is. net.

DESIGN AND TRADITION

By W. AMOR FENN. Medium 8vo,
303. net.

UNIVERSAL ART SERIES

The following volumes are in preparation: —

LANDSCAPE PAINTING FROM
GIOTTO TO THE PRESENT DAY

By C. LEWIS HIND. In 2 volumes.
Profusely illustrated

MODERN ARCHITECTURE

By CHARLES MARRIOTT. With many
illustrations and plans.

ETCHING, AQUATINT, AND
MEZZOTINT

By ARTHUR POPHAM. With many
illustrations.

DECORATIVE DESIGN

By FRANK G. JACKSON. Large Cr.
8vo, 95. 6d. net.

THEORY AND PRACTICE OF
DESIGN

By FRANK G. JACKSON. With 700
illustrations. Large Cr. 8vo, us. net.

MODELLING: A GUIDE FOR
TEACHERS AND STUDENTS

By E. LANTERI, Professor of Sculpture
at the Royal College of Art, South Kensing-
ton. In three volumes. Cr. 410, 173. 6d.
net per volume.

STUDIES IN PLANT FORM
AND DESIGN

By W. MIDGLEY and A. E. V. LILLEY.

Illustrated. Revised and enlarged. Demy
8vo, 75. 6d. net.

ANIMALS IN MOTION

By EADWARD MUYBRIDGE. Pro-
fusely illustrated. Oblong, 275. 6d. net.

HUMAN FIGURE IN MOTION

By EADWARD MUYBRIDGE. Illus-
trated. Oblong, 275. 6d. net.

FRESCO PAINTING: ITS ART
AND TECHNIQUE

By JAMES WARD, Head Master of the
Macclesfield School of Art. Fully illus-
trated. Demy 8vo, 123. 6d. net.

THE COLOUR DECORATION
OF ARCHITECTURE

By JAMES WARD. Illustrated in colour
and half tone. Royal 8vo, 1 1 s. 6d. net.

HISTORY AND METHODS
OF ANCIENT AND MODERN
PAINTING

By JAMES WARD. In four volumes.
Demy 8vo. Vol. I., IDS. net. Vol. II.,
los. net. Vol. III., 155. net. Vol. IV.,
153. net.

PROGRESSIVE DESIGN FOR
STUDENTS

By JAMES WARD. Demy 8vo, 6s. net.

HISTORIC ORNAMENT

By JAMES WARD. In two volumes.
Demy 8vo, 95. 6d. net per volume.

COLOUR HARMONY AND
CONTRAST

By JAMES WARD. With 16 coloured
illustrations. Demy 8vo, ns.6d.net.

COSTUME DESIGN AND
ILLUSTRATION

. By ETHEL H. TRAPHAGEN. 200
illustrations, including several in colour.
Oblong, 173. 6d. net.

STUDENT'S MANUAL OF
FASHION DRAWING

By EDITH YOUNG. With 30 full-page
plates. Oblong, 123. 6d. net.

t

PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE
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1922

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